Magic and Loss
by Mirage Shinkiro
Summary: G1. Bluestreak finds himself still plagued with nightmares and grief over his lost family and home. He tries to drown his pain in another's arms, but love is more complicated than he realizes. It also has consequences. BluexSunny, BluexWJ, sparkling.
1. All The Wrong Places

_Title: Magic and Loss_  
_Author:_ Mirage Shinkiro

_**Rating:**_** M  
**_**Warnings:**_** mech/mech plug 'n' play and spark bonding**, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and asexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.

_Pairings, major:_ BluestreakxSunstreaker, WheeljackxBluestreak  
_Parings, minor:_ SideswipexSmokescreen, SideswipexRatchet, ProwlxJazz, and Sunstreakerx?

_Disclaimer:_ Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

_Summary:_ G1. After awakening on Earth, Bluestreak finds himself still plagued with nightmares and grief over his lost family and home. He tries to drown his pain in another's arms, but love is more complicated than he realizes. It also has consequences. BluexSunny, BluexWheeljack

_A/N, notes:_ :: :: will indicate comm. link or inter-bond talking.

Edit: Inspired by Ryagelle's "Unexpectedly Blue." Give it a read!

_A/N, units of time (source, TFwiki):_ nanoklik=1 second; klik=1.2minutes; breem=8.3 minutes; joor=roughly an hour; orn=a day; and vorn=83 years.

oOoOo

_"There's a bit of magic in everything and some loss to even things out."-Lou Reed, "Magic and Loss"_

_**Chapter 1: All the Wrong Places**_

Peering into the rec room, Bluestreak scanned the mechs present for his lover. When the second shift retired for the night, they always did it with a bang: mid- or high-grade energon, video games, practical jokes, battle tales, raucous laughter, and sometimes Decepticon-mimicking. The final game seemed to be the one of choice tonight, and Bluestreak spied his lover strutting around the room wearing a fake pair of scrap-metal wings. With a tentative smile, Bluestreak stepped through the doorway as Sunstreaker pointed a finger at Sideswipe, who was wearing a grey bucket on his head, and began talking in a raspy voice.

"If you'd listened to me, we wouldn't be in this mess!" Sunstreaker shrieked, doing a decent impression of Starscream. A wave of laughter washed through the room.

Sideswipe pushed out his chest, the grey bucket shifting as he moved. "You fool, Starscream! It was your own erroneous information that started this fiasco, but we'll 'discuss' your idiocy later."

Every mech in the room suddenly chimed in: "Decepticons! _Retreat! Reeeeetreat!_" The resulting laughter was so loud Bluestreak wondered why they didn't get in trouble. He smiled at the twins, though, as they removed their "helmet" and "wings" and bowed to thunderous applause.

"Score another one for the Autobots!" Sunstreaker tossed aside his wings, clearly exultant over their latest battle.

"Nothing like some Jet Judo!" Sideswipe added, tossing his Megatron helmet to the makeshift audience. He high-fived his yellow twin, having picked up the gesture from watching Spike, and then joined Tracks and Smokescreen, who were vying to see who could drum up the best Decepticon insult.

Bluestreak hovered just inside the doorway, leaning against the wall. He liked watching his comrades having fun, but he still felt apart from them, on the outside of an invisible barrier created by their misconceptions of him. He knew he could win more friends if he could tame his quirk, but the problem was he _couldn't_. He found himself babbling to anyone and everyone who would lend him half an audio because if he let himself stop and think, he was immediately assaulted by memories of his home city, Praxus, being annihilated by Decepticons. In fact, staying silent this long was beginning to make him twitchy, and it was with relief that he realized Sunstreaker had noticed his presence and was wandering over.

"Hey, Blue," Sunstreaker said, his tone sultry. "I was wondering when you'd return from your mission. My berth felt awfully cold last night." He grinned.

Bluestreak returned the smile, always warmed by the realization that someone as tough as Sunstreaker had asked him out. "Well, we were supposed to return this morning but the Coneheads found us and probably about the same time you all were fighting Megatron and the others we were fighting and Mirage really put himself in the line of fire to get that intel and there was no way we were going to leave his side after he got so injured and—"

Sunstreaker held up a hand. "I'm just teasing!" He grabbed the gunner's elbow and pulled him into the room. "You had dinner yet? Let's get some high-grade and head back to my quarters."

"No I haven't had supper." Bluestreak allowed himself to be led. "But you know high-grade doesn't sit quite well in my tank and with nothing else in my system it's likely to make me sick and what about Sideswipe? He's probably tired after all that fighting and I don't want him to miss out on recharge because — "

"Sides is trying to seduce Smokescreen." Sunstreaker snorted. "Take a closer look at them and Tracks. Sides is totally moving in for the kill. Don't worry. We'll have the room to ourselves tonight." He had pulled Bluestreak over to the energon dispenser and proceeded to get two high-grades.

Bluestreak smiled uncertainly and accepted the cube, knowing he had a hard time saying no to Sunstreaker. "Okay then if you're sure and it would be nice to have some time alone with you unless you'd like to stay and party more first."

Sunstreaker was already shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good. Let's go." He never released his elbow and halfway dragged him from the room and down the hall.

Even though they hadn't officially spark bonded, they'd casually spark merged a few times, and Bluestreak was getting feedback across the faint connection between them. He could tell Sunstreaker was feeling deprived, so he knew he wouldn't get much recharge that night. He couldn't complain, though, when Sunstreaker made him momentarily forget every nightmare and bad memory he possessed. In fact, he made him feel attractive, wanted, and loved.

"Congratulations by the way," Bluestreak said as they traversed the hallways, heading for the twins' quarters. "I heard you really gave Thundercracker a pounding and Sideswipe got Skywarp pretty good too. I also heard you dealt Starscream a good one when he came to their defense and I assume that little play you all were putting on was exactly what happened at the end of the battle and — "

"You bet," Sunstreaker interrupted. He grinned as they stopped at his cabin door. "We've got our Jet Judo perfected, I tell you." He punched in his access code and hauled Bluestreak inside. "Now, let me do something else I've perfected." His grin widened as he wrapped one arm around his waist.

Bluestreak ducked his head, still overwhelmed by Sunstreaker's advances even after two hundred orns of being with him. Everyone had been teasing them lately, saying Bluestreak had finally tamed the _Ark_'s biggest player, and Sunstreaker had been replying with saucy remarks about the alluring qualities of doorwings and chevrons. Bluestreak wasn't sure what to make of it, but he could attest to Sunstreaker's skills having been perfected.

"I love it when you get all shy on me," Sunstreaker said, laughing. "Now drink your supper! You're tense even for you." He held up his own energon cube, pressing it against Bluestreak's lips. "Come on, babe. As much as I like your shyness, I also like it when you loosen up and just give yourself to me."

"Mm," was all Bluestreak managed as a reply and then he was dutifully sipping the bitter high-grade. The energon had been distilled too quickly to develop either a sweet or dry tang, and those who drank it didn't do so for the taste.

Sunstreaker pulled away the cube when some energon escaped Bluestreak's lips and raced down his chin. With a 'Con-eating grin, he licked Bluestreak's chin, catching the spilled liquid, then gulped the rest of the cube himself. "Good enough," he said, tossing both their cubes onto the desk, and then he was crushing Bluestreak's frame against his own, capturing his mouth in a kiss and running his hands up the sensitive transformation seams along Bluestreak's back.

Bluestreak moaned, used to the assaults of sudden passion and knowing that a deprived Sunstreaker tended to go in rounds, the first one always intense and quick. Sure enough, Sunstreaker pushed him against the desk, lifting him onto the edge, and nibbled down his throat. At the same time, his hands ran across the expanse of Bluestreak's doorwings, massaging the metal with his fingertips and triggering sensory nodes. Bluestreak gasped and arched into the touch, his racing thoughts stopped completely as all his systems focused on the pleasure.

He dared to hope he wouldn't be having any nightmares about dying friends and family members that night.

oOoOo

Wheeljack hummed an aimless tune as he wandered through medbay, storing various tools used the previous day to treat the wounded. He enjoyed being on first shift because it usually meant he had about a joor of peace and quiet to ponder whatever his current project was.

However, when the medbay doors hissed open to reveal Sunstreaker, Wheeljack remembered the one distinct drawback to first shift: buffing out the paint marks caused by overly boisterous lovers during the course of the night.

"Hey, 'Jack," Sunstreaker said, hopping onto a berth. "I managed to add some unsightly grey patches to myself, so could you lend me a hand?" He touched one patch gingerly. "And this was a new wax job, too!"

Wheeljack found himself empathizing with Ratchet's most famous quirk. If he could have reformatted Sunstreaker into a toaster, he would have gladly done it. "If you're that concerned about it, tone down your activities." Irritated by the reminder of which mech was on the receiving end of Sunstreaker's excess energy, Wheeljack found he couldn't rouse his usual laidback attitude.

"Whoa!" Sunstreaker frowned at him while he grabbed the buffer. "What's up with you? And why have you been so surly with me lately? You're not this cross with Sides when he comes in."

Feeling glad his blast mask hid most of his face, Wheeljack turned toward Sunstreaker and pretended to tease him. He couldn't let anyone know about his secret crush on Bluestreak, least of all Sunstreaker. "That's because Sideswipe isn't in here every other morning whining about the horrible scratches to his lovely paint."

Sunstreaker shrugged. "Hey, I can't help it if the rest of you are lax about your appearances. Then again, none of you are as beautiful as I am, so maybe you have no reason to be this motivated."

_And the sad part is he really believes that,_ Wheeljack thought, shaking his head. "Is that a wise thing to say to the mech holding the buffer over you?"

"You wouldn't dare!" Sunstreaker scooted away.

Wheeljack had to laugh. "Relax. You know I'm a professional. Besides, if you fuss too much, I'll get Ratchet, and I might add that he fell into recharge at his desk again."

Clearly understanding both the threat and the impending doom, Sunstreaker held still while Wheeljack buffed the grey patches off. When the job was finished, he looked over his yellow paint carefully, examining the work.

"Not bad," he said. "I'll just have to apply more wax later."

"You're welcome," Wheeljack quipped.

Sunstreaker hopped off the berth and frowned at him again. "Hey, is Ratch rubbing off on you or something? 'Cause you really have been grumpy with me for awhile now."

Knowing he had to dismiss Sunstreaker's concerns or he'd get harassed for being jealous, Wheeljack waved him off. "Just take it easy, will you? You and Blue get enough damage in battle without giving Ratchet and me extra work thanks to your extracurricular activities."

Sunstreaker snorted. "You wouldn't be complaining if you were on the receiving end, I bet." He sauntered toward the door. "Besides, we're warriors. We can take it."

Holding back a sigh, Wheeljack shook his head as Sunstreaker left. "What an idiot."

"You just now figured that out?" came a grouchy voice from behind him.

Wheeljack chuckled as he turned to face a stiff-looking Ratchet. "Good morning, sunshine! Do you need me to work on your neck cables?"

"Ah, shut up! It's not like you don't fall into recharge at your desk, too."

Wheeljack laughed again and gestured at the berth. "Let me rephrase that: I'm going to adjust your neck cables before you kill your first patient for the day."

Ratchet smirked but complied.

oOoOo

_Bombs. More bombs. Seeker fire. Bluestreak cowered in the cellar of his creators' store, where he worked. Trapped a darkness pierced only by firefight, he tried to ignore the glimpses of his creators' battered, smoking bodies when the cellar window admitted flashes of light._

_Twenty joors. Twenty endless joors of shattering_ booms_, flying metal, and the nauseating smell of oil burning. Bluestreak had only been an adult for less than a vorn, and despite all the horror stories, he'd been too naïve to think the Decepticons would breach his city. Now all he could hear was the shriek of bending metal and the whiz of missiles. In the corner where he'd curled in a ball, he jumped at the nearest explosions, certain he'd die, and cringed at the sound of distant screams and cries. They were all going to die, he knew it. Nothing but rubble and scrap metal would remain . . ._

Bluestreak snapped out of recharge, gasping through his intakes, and bolted upright on Sunstreaker's berth. Staring around the small, silent room, he searched for a sign of his lover, but Sunstreaker had clearly already left. The shadows in the corners seemed to expand, making him twitch as he remembered those endless joors being trapped in the cellar. The nightmares just wouldn't leave him alone.

Forcing himself to not glitch, he focused on his other two immediate problems: one, he was stiff and sore; two, he was alone. Discomforted, he climbed off the berth and stretched, easing the tension in his frame's various springs and cables, and headed straight for the washracks. He had no idea where Sunstreaker had gone, but fortunately, the washracks were busy, with several second shift mechs razzing each other over the sound of hissing water. Bluestreak scanned the room as he entered.

"Hey, Tracks," Smokescreen yelled, tossing an empty bottle at his target, "you've been in here for three breems! You're already squeaky clean, so leave some water for the rest of us."

Sideswipe, who Bluestreak noticed was stranding right beside Smokescreen, laughed as Tracks protested. "Yeah," the red twin said. "You're the only mech in the base as vain as my brother."

"I'll tell Sunny you said that," Tracks sniffed.

"He'll just agree," Sideswipe replied, grinning. The other mechs present — the Aerialbots minus Silverbolt — laughed.

Bluestreak finally slipped into the cavernous room, inhaling the warm steam through his intakes and relaxing. Laughter. Voices. _Life._ They made him calm down, at least until Sides saw him.

"Hey, Blue, nice yellow patches you're sporting there!" Sideswipe called across the room.

Bluestreak froze midstride as seven pairs of optics focused on him. "Oh?" he said, horrified. He glanced at his chassis and saw yellow streaks on his grey and red paint. "I see you're right. I guess I'll have to stop and see Wheeljack or Ratchet before I go on duty or Prowl's not going to be very happy with me and that wouldn't — "

The entire room of mechs burst into peels of laughter, with Sideswipe imitating a human's cat call.

"Go, Blue!" Sides walked over and slapped his back. "Glad to know you're still keeping up with Sunny."

"Yeah," Smokescreen said, dropping his voice and aiming his words more at the Aerialbots, "and we all know Blue could use some unwinding."

Snickers followed that statement, but Sideswipe glared at the mech who was apparently his new lover. "_Smokescreen._"

Smokescreen held up both hands in a sign of surrender, and Bluestreak turned his stare upon the tile floor, reminded once again that most of his fellow Autobots thought he was vapid and quite possibly lacking in the processor department. He suspected his sharpshooting was the only thing that had drawn the twins' attention.

"Uh, Sides," he asked, wanting the topic changed quickly, "have you seen your brother this morning or did Sunny get an early mission or something? Because if he's on a mission or undercover or something I don't want to use my comm. link and possibly cause trouble." Bluestreak grabbed a bottle of cleaner and twisted his hands around it slowly.

"Nah, he's still on base," Sideswipe replied as the other mechs returned to their baths. "He was in the rec room a breem ago. I asked where you were, and he said you were still recharging."

Bluestreak managed to smile. "I was. Thanks Sides." He scooted over to a water nozzle, suddenly uncomfortable around the hyper mechs. He wanted to finish his bath quickly, find Sunstreaker, and get the yellow streaks off his paint.

Once he'd escaped the washracks, Bluestreak activated his comm. link as he headed toward the medbay. ::Bluestreak to Sunny.::

::Sunstreaker here,:: came the languid reply. ::What's up, Blue?::

Bluestreak felt a bit hurt to have awakened alone since Sunstreaker knew his quirks. Still, he didn't want to seem accusatory or clingy. ::You can wake me up you know. I'm okay with that.::

::Nah, I gave you a good working-over last night. You needed some extra recharge.:: A laugh filtered through the connection.

Bluestreak paused at the intersection between the crew's quarters and the Ark's main section. ::No, really,:: he insisted, feeling like Sunstreaker was missing the point. ::I'd prefer it if you did wake me up.:: He hesitated, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. ::I like seeing you first thing.::

A long pause followed, and Bluestreak worried that he'd said something stupid. ::Sure thing, Blue,:: Sunstreaker finally replied. ::Hey, a group of us are going to play some video games after our shift tonight. You up for it?::

Bluestreak heard approaching footsteps in the corridor beyond and hid in the shadows, afraid of being teased again over his yellow marks. ::Uh, sure Sunny.:: He waited tensely as Optimus Prime and Prowl passed by and felt relieved to have been spared. Prowl had taken an almost genitor-like interest in him, which Bluestreak appreciated. In fact, he sometimes imagined what it would be like to call him "Genitor" or even the human word "Father." However, the tactician didn't approve of his being involved with Sunstreaker and would not be amused to see paint patches on his chassis, also like a genitor.

::Okay, Blue. See ya then.:: Sunstreaker cut the connection.

Bluestreak cringed. Sunstreaker did have his moods, but even knowing that, Bluestreak often found himself wondering if he'd done something wrong. Sideswipe had told him long ago to ignore it and let it pass when it happened, but despite his best efforts, Bluestreak still wondered if he'd done something to make Sunstreaker angry.

Checking to make sure the hallway was clear, he headed toward the medbay, stowing his disturbing thoughts and hoping Ratchet wasn't in a bad mood. When he entered the medbay, however, he found no one. The orangey-gold room presented him with nothing but empty berths and the quiet whirl of computer fans. Bluestreak rubbed his hands against his thighs, uneasy. He _hated_ medbays. After being rescued by the Autobots, he'd spent twenty orns in a medbay as half his systems and parts had been replaced or repaired. Even now he sometimes imagined he heard the endless beeps of the monitors tracking his spark energy and cerebral processor.

Maybe he should risk Prowl's displeasure, he thought, stepping back toward the doorway. It wasn't as though Prowl ever yelled at him or chewed him out. He was generally a calm, logical individual of longsuffering patience. Surely if he just —

Unable to bear the relative silence and smell of oil and lubricants, Bluestreak turned for the door, ready to make his escape.

"Blue?" a curious voice asked from behind him.

He halted, taking a nanoklik to process the voice. "Wheeljack!" He turned toward the engineer. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you! I mean I like Ratchet but I didn't want to bother him, not that I want to bother you, but sometimes when Ratchet's had a long shift he can get rather put out with me especially when I come in just because — "

"Because Sunstreaker got too feisty with you?" Wheeljack interrupted, looking over his frame. "Yellow usually goes fine with red and grey, but not on you."

Bluestreak self-consciously ran his hand over the large yellow patch on his hip. "Um, yeah probably not. I'm sorry 'Jack I know you have better things to do than buff out spots on some mech's paint but it was an accident really and I don't want Prowl to be upset with me so — "

Wheeljack held up a hand for silence. "It's okay, Blue." He walked over, gently taking his elbow and pulling him to a berth. "And I know you hate medbays, so let's just get to work, all right?"

With a smile, Bluestreak sat down. "Thanks, 'Jack. You have always been so patient with me and don't ever tell me to shut up even though I know I can be really annoying, but I don't mean to be, and I really appreciate it because, you know, I still can't quite get the memories out of my databank and sometimes I still think I hear screaming or bombs or something but I'm in the base and it's just someone's movie or something and I flip out and it exasperates everyone but you're nice and I appreciate it."

Wheeljack had pulled out the buffer and set to work, carefully removing the yellow without damaging the paint below. "You're welcome." His audio indicators flashed bright blue as he spoke. "And it's okay. I've seen your condition in other 'bots, so I have a general understanding of what you're doing and why."

Bluestreak stared at the engineer and wondered, not for the first time, why he wore a blast mask constantly. Prowl said it was simply to protect himself during his experiments, but Sunstreaker had told him rumors that Wheeljack had been badly damaged in a battle. No one really knew. Bluestreak sometimes imagined it was the latter because it helped to think he wasn't the only one carrying scars, but he genuinely hoped Wheeljack was just being cautious. "Well," he replied after a pause, "I guess you and also Ratchet would understand it, yeah, and sometimes I think Optimus gets it too but I'm a bit afraid to ask. I think I can wear on Prowl and Jazz at times although they never — "

"Hey," Wheeljack said, stopping his work and looking up. "Prowl and Jazz really care about you. I think they consider you their 'adopted' youngling. Prowl may not be very, uh, demonstrative, but both him and Jazz would be crushed if something happened to you."

Bluestreak found himself smiling again. The thought warmed him. "I hope so. I may not like to fight but I really do want to be an asset to the Autobots and not a detriment, so — " He paused abruptly as a pain shot through his spark chamber. Taken off guard, he clutched at his chest. "What was that?"

Wheeljack straightened and set aside the buffer. "What was what?" His tone betrayed concern.

A strange tingling moved through Bluestreak's chassis, and he shuddered. "It feels strange! 'Jack, what's going on? I'm not injured, I swear I didn't take a single injury on my mission and Sunny's not _that_ rough."

Frowning, Wheeljack headed to the tool banks and retrieved a scanner. "I don't know. Let's take a look." He returned and ran the scanner over his spark chamber. "Surely not," he muttered to himself, his vocal indicators flashing red.

"Surely not what? What did you see?" Bluestreak began to feel panicked, unable to fathom what could be wrong.

Wheeljack ran the scanner over his chest again, then set it down. "Okay, let's do a visual confirmation. I need you to open your spark chamber so I can investigate."

The words were spoken in calm, soothing tones, but Bluestreak suddenly felt like he couldn't get any air through his intakes. "'J-J-Jack?"

Wheeljack stepped closer and put one arm around his shoulders. "You're not injured, Blue," he said quietly. "I'm just trying to verify what's happening."

He nodded numbly, finding himself wordless for once, and opened his spark chamber, mentally activating the transformation cog that would fold back the layers of metal. Wheeljack released him and stepped back, examining his spark. Bluestreak was afraid to look down.

"You've been dating Sunny exclusively, right?" Wheeljack asked, his tone suddenly clinical.

"Y-Yeah." Bluestreak felt his doorwings tremble with his tension. "Why?"

Wheeljack gently grasped both his arms. "Because you're carrying a sparkling. It looks like you and Sunstreaker are genitors."

Bluestreak thought he'd fall into stasis lock from the shock. "A sparkling! No I can't there's no way I mean there is a way because we have spark-merged but we're both fitted with SMERs so there's no way — "

"It only takes once," Wheeljack interrupted calmly, "especially if your SMER has malfunctioned or been damaged in battle. And obviously one or both of you have a damaged one."

"He's going to be mad," Bluestreak said, his thoughts jumping tracks. "He's not in a good mood today. How am I supposed to tell him? And Prowl's going to be so disappointed in me! Prowl will still talk to me right?" He couldn't seem to gather his thoughts, and suddenly he felt coolant burning in his optics. "You don't think Prowl would be so disappointed that he wouldn't look out for me anymore do you because he never approved of me and Sunny and said I shouldn't be with him and Jazz agreed and now this is happening and — oh, Primus! — I guess this means Sunny and I should be talking about a permanent spark bonding."

Wheeljack reached out and triggered the transformation of Bluestreak's spark chamber, causing his chest plates to close. Then he stepped forward and gently hugged him. "Shhh. Prowl would do no such thing, I promise, and neither would Jazz, for that matter. I don't know how Sunny will react, but we'll find out soon enough. You just need to stay calm for now."

Bluestreak did grow quiet, but it had nothing to do with Wheeljack's words. Since the death of his family and friends, the only 'bots who had hugged him had been Jazz and Sunstreaker. Even the other mechs or femmes he'd lost himself in had not been interested in affection. Just a quick interface. The feel of a kind touch anchored Bluestreak, allowing him to get his thoughts partially under control. He pressed against Wheeljack, trying to feel safer somehow. Still, as soon as his thoughts slowed, they immediately jumped tracks again. "I'm so scared," he whispered, his doorwings trembling with excess emotion. "I'm barely an adult myself so how am I supposed to care for a sparkling and what if Sunny doesn't want a sparkling because then I'll be taking care of a sparkling all alone and, Primus, I don't even know anything about sparklings! What do you even do, I mean what if I hurt it or — "

"You're not going to be abandoned," Wheeljack interrupted him gently. "Prowl and Jazz will stand by you, so you'll never be alone. I'm sure others, like me, will stand by you and help you as well. Don't be afraid."

Bluestreak was still scared that Prowl and Jazz would be disappointed or angry, but part of him insisted that what Wheeljack said was true. He wished he could believe it without question, but the universe had been a terrifying place since the orn Praxus was destroyed and his creators were killed. "But still," he said after a few kliks, his thoughts returning to a previous concern. "I can't tell Sunny today. He's in a bad mood, so I need to wait."

"You can't tell Sunny _what?_" came an irritated voice.

Wheeljack released Bluestreak as Ratchet entered the medbay. "We seem to have something unprecedented for our time here on Earth," the engineer replied.

Ratchet frowned as he approached them. "Don't tell me you're going to say what I think you're going to say."

Handing him the scanner, Wheeljack said nothing at all.

Bracing himself, Bluestreak tried to prepare himself for Ratchet's reaction. He also hoped Ratchet wouldn't suggest termination as an option. Bluestreak had been reared in a family who was against both sparkling termination and the death penalty, and having lived through the destruction of his home city had only made Bluestreak's anti-death feelings stronger. As scared as he was, he could never consider extinguishing the sparkling.

"Slaggit," Ratchet sighed, running the scanner over Bluestreak's chest. "I really _am_ going to turn Sunstreaker into a toaster this time." He thunked down the scanner. "This is the whole reason I insist that all mechs be equipped with a SMER. I swear, if Sunny disabled his for the extra energy rush, I'm going to kill him! I didn't nickname the device the 'Stupidity Stopper' for nothing."

Bluestreak cringed and sincerely hoped Ratchet's reaction would be the worst of the day. However, he was terrified of everyone's responses, especially Sunstreaker's. He had no idea how Sunstreaker would handle the news of being a genitor.

At that moment, though, Sideswipe popped into the room calling for Ratchet, and Bluestreak knew he was doomed. What one twin knew, the other would also.

* * *

_Postscript: Yes, you read that right. The Spark Merging Energy Regulator (SMER), or so-called "Stupidity Stopper," is a device I dreamt up to fill the role of TF birth control. I actually introduced it in my Jazz/Prowl story "No Quiet to Find."_

_And just for the record, I don't hate Sunstreaker's character! He just happened to have the right personality to fit the role I needed in this story. I apologize to any Sunny fans. It's purely just creative license here, nothing personal._

_Thanks to those of you who take the time to leave feedback._

_Edit: Story re-proofed on Oct. 31, 2010._


	2. All That Shouldn't Happen

_A/N: I am mixing the Beast Wars/TFA protoform concept with the G1 design-and-build concept. The word "protoform" in this story is therefore creatively employed to mean the initial, small body of a sparkling that is designed upfront but can be not only easily remodeled as the sparkling grows but also mold itself to fit unique traits the sparkling reveals after infusion. This adaptability can sometimes mean deformities . . . _

_

* * *

_

_**Chapter 2: All that Shouldn't Happen**_

Bluestreak stared at Sideswipe, who was in turn staring at Ratchet. The medbay fell into a silence interrupted only by the soft whirl of computer fans and hum of electronics. Sideswipe's sudden yell seemed deafening by comparison.

"_What?_" The red twin looked from Ratchet to Bluestreak and back. "If Sunny disabled what? The Stupidity Stopper? _What?_"

Bluestreak wrapped his arms across his chassis, his fear doubling.

Ratchet made a slicing motion with his hand. "Sorry, Sides, this is a private consultation. No questions allowed."

Bluestreak knew that wouldn't be enough to deter Sideswipe, and sure enough, the red twin crossed the room and leaned into Ratchet's face. "If it's private then don't conduct it in the middle of the general bay!" He stepped over to Bluestreak and squeezed his left shoulder. "What's this all about, Blue? The way he was talking, it almost sounded like you're carrying — " He paused. "Nah, that's impossible." He looked to Ratchet again. "That is impossible, right?"

Bluestreak stared at Ratchet, silently imploring him to scare Sideswipe off with one of his famous temper flares.

Wheeljack stepped back and activated the computer comm. link. "Wheeljack to Jazz. Report to medbay immediately."

An affirmative answer met the request, and that distracted Sideswipe momentarily. "Why Jazz?" The twin temporarily grew so still he seemed to be in a form of stasis lock. "Primus! Blue really is carrying a sparkling, isn't he?" He looked back at the gunner. "Oh, Blue, you know I can't stop something that shocking from going across my bond with Sunny." He paused, tilting his head as though listening to a mental comm. link. "Yeah, he's on his way."

Bluestreak cringed. He felt like he'd been dumped on a conveyer belt for a smelting pit. Jazz was coming — would he be disappointed? Bluestreak wondered — and Sunstreaker was coming. "Primus!" He shuddered.

Ratchet stepped to the comm. link. "Ratchet to Optimus Prime, Prowl, and Ironhide. Report to medbay immediately. Code 27 with a possible and very likely Code 13."

A chorus of affirmatives met this request, and Bluestreak stared at the CMO in horror. Half the base was going to learn his personal business, it was going to turn into a freak show, everyone was going to be angry, and screaming would result. "Ratchet!" The name came out as more of a squeak.

"Sorry, Blue," Ratchet replied, his grey face stern. "With Sunny on the way, I don't have much of a choice."

Bluestreak had the sudden urge to bolt, but Sideswipe still clutched his left shoulder. "Sides . . ."

Sideswipe shook his head, his optics glazed over in the way that revealed he was listening to his bond with his twin.

When the medbay doors hissed open, Bluestreak jumped, but to his relief Jazz had arrived first.

"What in the universe?" Jazz asked, his gaze landing on Bluestreak.

"Please stand by Bluestreak," Wheeljack said quietly, "and, uh, hold his hand if you would."

"Sure thing, but why?" Jazz crossed the room, positioning himself by the berth and taking Bluestreak's right hand.

"You'll see," Wheeljack replied, walking around the berth and, to Bluestreak's surprise, standing behind him as though offering backup.

Bluestreak stared at the third-in-command, who he looked up to like a genitor. "I'm sorry, Jazz. Please don't be disappointed!" To his shame, he felt coolant burn his optics.

Jazz squeezed his hand. "Hey, kiddo, I'm not gonna be disappointed in ya. I don't get what's happenin' here, but yer not gonna ever disappoint me."

The hiss of opening doors announced the second arrival, and Bluestreak relaxed to see it was Ironhide.

"Whatcha need me for?" Ironhide asked, crossing his red arms over his boxy chest. "Yer not serious 'bout that Code 27 are ya?"

"Dead serious," Ratchet replied dryly.

Ironhide dropped his arms and walked to the CMO's side. "What 'n the — "

The unmistakable sound of screeching tires pierced the doors, followed by the sound of a transformation, and Bluestreak jumped. Jazz stepped closer to him and grasped his right hand with both hands.

The doors parted, admitting a clearly angry Sunstreaker. "What do you mean I'm a genitor!"

The yell was directed at Sideswipe, who dropped his hand from Bluestreak's shoulder but stood between him and his brother. "Just what it sounds like. I accidentally walked in on the end of the conversation. Bluestreak's carrying a sparkling."

"Impossible!" The yellow warrior stalked up to Ratchet. "We both have SMERs to stop this kinda slag."

Jazz gasped at the word "sparkling," and Ironhide took position at Ratchet's shoulder, clearly indicating he was there in a security capacity.

Ratchet's optics narrowed and glowed almost indigo. "Obviously one of you got your Stupidity Stopper damaged in battle. Or it malfunctioned."

Sunstreaker pointed one finger at Ratchet and poked him in the chest. "Then I guess that means you didn't do your job right!"

Bluestreak drew backwards in anticipation, and he felt Wheeljack pat his shoulder. Sunstreaker's attitude and temper may have won him the nickname "Resident Sociopath," but Ratchet's disposition had earned him the nickname "Hatchet." Suddenly Bluestreak wasn't sure which mech Ironhide would have to restrain.

"You're supposed to run a systems' check every morning," Ratchet replied icily. "However, that aside, it doesn't change the fact unbonded couples _should not be spark merging!_"

The medbay doors had opened once again as Ratchet had spoken, and Optimus Prime and Prowl stared into the room. Prowl already looked traumatized, his movements stiff as he entered. Bluestreak guessed Jazz had given him a warning over their bond, and he worried again that Prowl would think less of him. Optimus visibly jerked upon hearing the words.

"Spark merging?" Optimus asked. "So that Code 27 . . .?"

"It appears Blue is carrying a sparkling," Sunstreaker replied, glaring at his leader. "And why is half the base suddenly in here!" He looked at Bluestreak. "Wait a minute. Have you been with anyone other than me lately?"

A beat of silence hit the room, then suddenly everyone seemed to speak at once: "_Sunstreaker!_"

Everyone, that is, except Bluestreak, whose vocalizer seemed to freeze momentarily. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Of course not!" A pulse of rage passed through him at the implication. "How can you even say that, why would you ask that, and of course I haven't been so why _did_ you ask?"

Several pairs of glaring optics turned toward Sunstreaker, who snorted and crossed his arms. "I never said we were exclusive. Just because I've dated you for two hundred orns doesn't mean I ignored everyone else, so why should you have? It's a valid question."

Bluestreak's logic circuits ground to an abrupt halt.

"Sunny!" Sideswipe stepped up to his twin and crossed his arms as well. "Look, I know this is a huge shock for you — slag, it is for me, too! — but Blue's just as shocked as you are."

One half of Bluestreak's processor told him he shouldn't be surprised. Sunstreaker was the base's biggest player, after all.

"Ya know perfectly well Blue's the loyal type!" Jazz was saying.

The other half of Bluestreak's processor rebelled, pointing out the special way Sunstreaker had treated him, plus he had indicated they were not just casually dating.

"Hey, Sunny, that was uncalled for," Ironhide was saying.

Bluestreak frowned as he stared at his angry lover's face. Sunstreaker still had his arms crossed and was looking to the side, his chin lifted in a clear 'I'm-not-listening' gesture. Bluestreak put his hand over his spark chamber, where apparently a second spark now grew, and felt hurt and _betrayed._ He'd been committed to Sunstreaker, and this was his payment?

"Calm down," Optimus ordered, stepping into the fray. "Yelling is only going to make this worse. This is an unusual situation, but things like this did happen back on Cybertron. We can all cope."

Feeling a rush of anger like he hadn't experienced since he'd seen his home city destroyed, Bluestreak squeezed Jazz's hand and then pulled away. No, he decided, he didn't feel betrayed or hurt. He was _slagged off._ "How dare you!" He stood, giving in to the rage even though he didn't understand why it was suddenly so intense.

Every mech in the room stilled, all optics turned to Bluestreak, but the gunner focused solely on the shocked Sunstreaker. "For two hundred orns," he continued, "I've picked my way around your 'moods' and absorbed the occasional brush off in order to keep peace, and all I get in return is the implication that I'm some easy 'facer who'll jump in a berth with anyone who'll give me attention? Even if you don't care about anyone but yourself and think you're better than all the rest of us, even your own twin, I thought you respected me as a warrior at least enough to not hurl senseless accusations at me just because _you don't like_ that there are consequences to your actions and you don't want to deal with it because it's inconvenient and _cramps your style!_"

For once, Sunstreaker didn't have an immediate comeback. Before Sunstreaker could recover, Bluestreak clenched his fists and finished his speech. "Well, guess what Oh Perfect One Who Can't Be Bothered? Something went wrong, it's half your fault, and I'm not going to sit around and be insulted because you're having one of your _moods!_"

"Wha — " Sunstreaker growled. "You slagger!" He lunged for Bluestreak, who struck a defensive stance, but Ironhide, Sideswipe, and Ratchet all grabbed Sunstreaker.

Bluestreak couldn't seem to reign in his temper now that he'd lost it. A fire seemed to rage in his tanks, the consuming hate that only Decepticons could invoke in him. Every circuit in his body seemed to burn. "I guess you finally have to _grow up_, huh?" He howled in incoherent fury, transformed, and before anyone could react, he dashed out of the medbay and down the hall. As soon as the Ark's main entrance was in sight, he pushed his fuel to maximum and shot into the desert at his top speed.

_Frag it all, anyway!_ he thought as the sand flashed under his wheels. _Slagger!_

oOoOo

Wheeljack was the first to react to Bluestreak's sudden departure, having built too many sparkling protoforms to be fazed by carriers' behavior. That and the fact he was deeply worried for the young mech. "Blue's Gestation Protection program has fragged up his emotional subroutines. We better follow him before he runs his engine too hot and damages the sparkling."

Ratchet glanced over the struggling Sunstreaker's shoulder. "You're right, but no way do I have the speed to catch up with him." He released one hand from his 'patient' and whipped a wrench from subspace. "Calm down, or I'll put you down!" he said, whacking Sunstreaker in the helm.

Sunstreaker growled but grew motionless, and Wheeljack had to suppress a laugh. Ratchet was probably the only 'bot in the universe that could exercise any real control over Sunstreaker, and at the moment, Wheeljack was taking guilty pleasure in seeing him put in his place.

"I have enough speed to catch 'im." Jazz glanced at Optimus. "Technically, both Prowl and I do, and ya know Blue looks up to us."

Optimus nodded. "You're his surrogate genitor. Perhaps it is best for you two to retrieve him."

"I need to go as well, then." Wheeljack was not about to be left off the team. "You know I can catch up with him, and someone needs to check the sparkling."

Prowl was glaring at Sunstreaker, or what little of the warrior could be seen with his brother, Ironhide, and Ratchet all gripping him. "Jazz is best suited to calm down Bluestreak, and I'd like to remain here to have a few _words_ with Sunstreaker."

Extra glad to be wearing a blast mask, Wheeljack couldn't stop his grin. He could only imagine what Prowl had in mind for the mech who'd mistreated his 'adopted' offspring, and he wished he could be around to hear the berating.

However, Jazz, who normally smiled so easily, was totally grim. "Ya do that. 'Jack and I can handle this."

"Very well." Optimus stepped clear of the doors. "Wheeljack and Jazz will retrieve Bluestreak."

Jazz transformed immediately and sped out the room with squealing tires.

"Ah, 'parents,'" Wheeljack sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. He subspaced a scanner and transformed, following Jazz. ::Wait up,:: he said through his comm. link.

::All right, man, but hurry,:: Jazz replied.

Wheeljack caught up with him at the _Ark_'s entrance. ::Let's show our stuff, huh?::

::Ya got it.:: Jazz accelerated, kicking up a storm of dust behind him. ::I checked with Red Alert, and he indicates that Blue headed almost due West. He also won't answer his comm.::

Wheeljack accelerated as well, staying by the saboteur's side. He could almost feel the anxiety radiating from Jazz. ::Hey, we'll catch up with him. Don't worry.::

::Ya know Blue's specs. The humans use his model in racing, too. Just like Prowl, if ya give him a flat stretch, he can really go.::

::True.:: Wheeljack couldn't deny the possibility. ::But our top speeds are still higher.::

They both paused their conversation as a boulder came into view, each swerving around one side of it before pulling side-to-side again.

::That ain't what's worryin' me.:: Jazz finally replied, accelerating further. ::What's got me concerned is the fact he has the best _endurance._ Teletraan I's clocked him at going top speed for twelve Earth hours straight!::

Wheeljack matched Jazz's speed again, realizing he had one nearly hysterical 'parent' on his hands. ::If it comes down to it, I'll use my rockets. Blue can't hope to surpass me if I take to the sky, and he won't get so far ahead that I'll run out of rocket fuel before I reach him. But our biggest concern here really isn't Blue. He can handle himself.::

Jazz sighed through the comm. link. ::I know, it's the sparklin'. Yeah, that's got me worried, too.::

::Hey, the Gestation Protection program should force him to stop if his body can't handle the stress.:: Wheeljack tried to sound as reassuring as possible, but he was concerned as well. Ahead of them lay miles of nothingness with not even a dust cloud in the distance to reveal Bluestreak's exact location.

::It will? Okay, that's good to know.: Jazz paused for a klik. ::Uh, 'Jack? Does this mean Prowl and I are gonna become what humans call "grandparents?" 'Cause that's almost insultin' for mechs our age.::

At that, Wheeljack had to laugh.

oOoOo

A full three breems passed before Bluestreak heard the sound of approaching engines. He'd located a sizable boulder in the desert and was watching some earth creature squirming in the scorching noon sun. When he'd calmed enough to stop and transform, he'd sat on the boulder and sobbed. Now that his anger and pain had dimmed, he simply felt numb. He'd never yelled at a fellow Autobot, having always been polite. In fact, the only hate he'd ever harbored was against the Decepticons for killing his family and friends. Therefore, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd lost his temper so badly, even if everyone knew Sunstreaker could be taxing for even the most patient of 'bots. All he knew was he'd blown it, and he wasn't sure he even cared. He simply felt exhausted, and although his optics were not malfunctioning, the entire world seemed grey.

As the sound of engines neared, Bluestreak noted there were only two cars and both were racers. High speed pursuit, he mused. What did they think he was going to do? Drive himself off the side of a cliff? Spontaneously combust from rage? Bluestreak sighed, letting the bitter thoughts float away from him, and turned his gaze upon the approaching mechs, forcing himself reconnect to the world. Both cars were white with spoilers. One had blue and red racing stripes and the other green and red.

"Jazz and Wheeljack!" Bluestreak stood, feeling both relieved and nervous. He had no idea what Jazz thought of his being a genitor, and he also didn't know how either was feeling about his outburst at Sunstreaker and subsequent high-speed exit.

Arriving with screeching breaks, both mechs transformed.

"Behold the power of the Gestation Protection subroutine," Wheeljack said lightly, "and its amazing ability to disrupt all other emotional programming."

Jazz ran to him and hugged him. "Ya okay, Blue? Primus, ya scared me!"

Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Jazz's waist and leaned his head against his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or disappoint you or put you out, I just suddenly felt so angry and — "

"Shhhh." Jazz hugged him tighter. "Ya don't have to apologize to me, although please don't race away like that again. And I'm not disappointed in ya."

Dimming his optics, Bluestreak allowed himself to imagine for a moment that Jazz and Prowl really were his adoptive genitors or creators and that he still had a literal family. He wasn't sure what he could call them, but he supposed he could borrow human words and call Jazz "Dad" and Prowl "Father," provided it didn't confuse Sparkplug and Spike too badly thanks to their human perceptions of gender. Then his new genitors would look after him forever and . . .

Reality crashed into his little daydream, a bolt of fear lanced his circuits, and he pulled back. "Prowl! Oh, Primus! He must be so disillusioned and frustrated. He told me from the start Sunstreaker wasn't any good for me and now this has happened and I'm sure he thought I'd be more careful and . . ." His vocalizer ground to a halt as horror bubbled in his tank.

Jazz clasped his face between his hands. "Hey, Prowler's not mad at ya. Or let down. He's shocked, but more than anythin', he's just worried for ya."

Stepping closer, Wheeljack pulled a scanner out of his subspace. "Yeah, you need to be careful." He turned Bluestreak to face him and scanned his chest over his spark chamber. "You can't tax your systems too much, or you'll kill the sparkling."

"Kill it?" Bluestreak shuddered. "I didn't know that oh Primus what if I'd — "

"It's fine," Wheeljack interrupted. "The scan shows no anomalies or fluctuations."

Bluestreak relaxed, but he still felt sick to his tank. "I don't want to do anything that would hurt it."

"I know." Wheeljack's tone was calming. "Now let's find out what started this little problem." He scanned Bluestreak's upper arm as well, where the SMER was housed. "Ah, I see. Yours has some damage, although not enough to totally account for a sparkling. That means Sunstreaker's is either also damaged or wearing out." He sighed and returned the scanner to subspace. His vocal indicators flashed red as he spoke. "It's a little late now, but in the future remember that you have to have routine SMER checkups and occasional replacements if you're being, uh, active."

Bluestreak dropped his gaze and stared at the sand. "Oh." He didn't want to meet the gazes of either mech. "So Sunny and I were both being careless. I guess Ratchet really does call the SMER the Stupidity Stopper for a reason."

An awkward pause followed, then Wheeljack hugged him. "Hey, no use in beating yourself up now."

Bluestreak relaxed against Wheeljack, surprised but touched to have been hugged by him twice in one orn. He appreciated knowing at least a few mechs cared enough to be affectionate with him, that is, for some reason other than a turn at 'facing. Bluestreak frowned, wondering if Sunstreaker had really only been out for an easy lover after all.

Finding himself angry again, Bluestreak growled and pulled back. "Yeah, but what about Sunny? That slagger humiliated me in front of a whole room of mechs."

Wheeljack exchanged glances with Jazz, and Bluestreak knew they weren't used to him cursing so much. "Blue, the sparkling carrier has a subroutine that activates, and it's called the Gestation Protection program. It enables you to defend your sparkling to an almost supermech capacity, but it also tends to cause irritability and mood swings. In some it can even cause depression or anxiety."

Bluestreak processed this information, gazing at the engineer's masked face. "I see." He paused, frowning again. "Sunny was still a total fragger."

Both Wheeljack and Jazz laughed. Wheeljack kept his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders, and Jazz stepped over and squeezed his arm.

"Agreed," Jazz replied. "But ya should still try to talk things out with him when ya return. Ratchet will have made sure Sunstreaker has calmed down, even if he has to drug him to do it, so ya might find that he'll be less of a slagger."

"And you have to admit it was just as much of a shock to him," Wheeljack said, "although you telling him off was priceless." He and Jazz laughed again.

Bluestreak found himself chuckling, too. "Well, I guess he had it coming but if you two think I should then I will." He sighed, his doorwings slumping. "And I want to talk to him, I really do. I just got so mad."

"That's understandable," Jazz said, smiling at him. "But ya two did just create a new life, after all. Now let's go back to the base, okay?"

Bluestreak nodded, and the three transformed, heading back to the _Ark_ at a leisurely pace.

oOoOo

Standing in the medbay, Bluestreak gathered his courage. Ratchet had told him Sunstreaker was resting on a berth in the back, one of the sectioned off rooms usually reserved for critical patients. Jazz and Wheeljack had encouraged him to speak with Sunstreaker, and even Ratchet had agreed, stating that Sunstreaker was partially sedated. Bluestreak, though, found himself staring at the door to Sunstreaker's room, his fists clenched with nervousness and a trace of anger. Determined to face the problem, however, Bluestreak approached the door, paused as it automatically opened, and then stepped in.

Sunstreaker was sitting up on the berth, his arms crossed over his abdomen and his gaze unfocused. At the door's hydraulic hiss, he let his head loll to the side. His optics focused then, but his face was devoid of expression. "Hey."

Bluestreak stared at him, feeling uncomfortable. "Uh, hey." He really did want to work things out, not let this destroy their relationship or the friendship that had preceded it. Granted, Sunstreaker was the Autobots' wildest and most irresponsible warrior, but despite his irritation, Bluestreak really did believe that something more than interfacing had kept them together.

"I'm sorry," Bluestreak said, sliding into the chair by Sunstreaker's berth. "'Jack said I have a Gestation Protection program and it can cause anger but I still shouldn't have — "

Sunstreaker held up one hand in a gesture for silence. "It's okay. I flipped there for a few kliks, but I know you haven't been with anyone else. I shouldn't have implied you had been." He sighed. "Actually, I haven't been either for the last ninety orns."

Bluestreak flinched. Once again, he found he wasn't entirely surprised to hear Sunstreaker had been with others, given his reputation, but it still hurt to hear about it. He held back his temper, though. "It's good to hear that you know I wouldn't do anything like that and your apology is accepted but now we really need to talk about this because whether we like it or not we're genitors."

"Genitors . . ." Sunstreaker shuddered faintly. "I never wanted to be a genitor. This was a orn I had hoped would never happen."

Bluestreak felt a sick gurgling in his tank. "Well I wasn't ready either but it seems we weren't careful and it's already done so I guess we need to talk about what to do next."

"Oh, yeah. Ratchet was saying something about designing and building a protoform." Sunstreaker's gaze shifted to the wall, where someone had mounted a holophoto of Cybertron. Various beautiful cityscapes flitted across the screen, showing the Golden Age. "I don't know much about that stuff. All my training is in martial arts, weaponry, and battle strategy."

Bluestreak shifted in the chair, his doorwings twitching in agitation. "I don't know much about it either because before undergoing weapons training I was a merchant. I know a lot about parts and upgrades but I don't know anything about design or building. But it's still our sparkling so we have to decide what we want, right?"

"Sounds like we need to consult with 'Jack." Sunstreaker's gaze didn't leave the holophoto, and his vocalizer sounded faintly slurred.

Bluestreak wondered just how many sedatives Ratchet had given him. "Sure. Uh, Sunny, are you okay because you seem really out of it and I know Ratchet gave you something to help you relax but you don't seem like yourself at all."

Smiling faintly, Sunstreaker let his head loll to the side again, catching Bluestreak's gaze as he did. "I think Ratchet said I've gone into shock or denial or something." He snorted suddenly, a harsh laugh escaping him. "I'm sure the whole base knows by now, and they're probably all terrified at the thought of me having a sparkling!"

Bluestreak cringed at the bitterness of Sunstreaker's tone. "Well I don't know I've only talked with Jazz and 'Jack but rumors do fly around here."

Sunstreaker waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Whatever. Talk to 'Jack. All I know is it should be a warrior and have yellow in the paint design."

Bluestreak stared at his lover for several kliks, trying to process what he'd said. "So . . . you insist on a warrior?" He wasn't particularly surprised by the request, but his discomfort with fighting made him uneasy.

Sunstreaker's gaze had wandered back to the holophoto. A sunset over Iacon currently graced the screen. "Of course it'll be a warrior." He paused. "If it's the result of our sparks over-surging, it's gotta be a warrior. Nothing associated with me would be anything else."

"I see your point." Bluestreak supposed there wasn't much of a choice since they were in the middle of a war, so he kept his discomfort to himself.

Sunstreaker nodded faintly. "Right, then. Tell me what 'Jack says." His gaze never left the holophoto.

"Uh, sure." Bluestreak stood and hurried from the room, uncomfortable. If Sunstreaker was having trouble discussing protoforms, then he obviously too drugged to discuss the possibility of an official spark bond. Bluestreak hoped that after Sunstreaker recovered from his shock and had time to think about it that he would see this as the logic in forging a permanent relationship. And sparkling or not, Bluestreak ultimately wanted to be bonded.

oOoOo

The door comm. buzzed, causing Wheeljack to slowly extract his attention from the article he was reading. "Come in." He turned halfway toward the door, only to find that his optics refused to leave the computer screen, where the article said exactly what he didn't want to think about: _If the alloy's tensile strength dips below 98.56 percent in any section of the protoform, then when the gestated sparkling is attached, there is a 2.93 percent chance that the fusion will cause . . ._

"You're just going to ignore me, huh? What are you reading that's so engrossing?"

Wheeljack tore gaze his away from the screen and focused on his visitor. Ratchet had crossed his arms over his chest and was glaring at him with mock indignation. "Sorry about that," Wheeljack said. "I wasn't trying to ignore you. I was just rereading some material on protoforms now that Blue's carrying."

Ratchet walked over and read the article's title over his shoulder. "'The Occurrence of Superficial Flaws and Interior Dysfunctions in the Protoforms of Gestated Sparklings: A Long-term Study.' Oh, 'Jack, don't tell me you're worried about — "

"I'm not worried," Wheeljack interrupted, uneasy. "I'm being careful. Not counting the time that we were deactivated, I haven't built a protoform in ten vorns." He frowned behind his mask as his gaze returned to the monitor. "And I know you must have told Sunny and Blue to come see me." He held in a sigh, not wanting the reminder that the mech he'd secretly loved was likely to end up spark bonded to someone else now.

A red hand squeezed his shoulder. "'Jack, everyone in Iacon knew you were the best. You were backlogged for up to a half-vorn at times. It doesn't matter if it's been awhile, you'll still do an excellent job."

Wheeljack turned and stared at his best friend. Ratchet, of all 'bots, knew what was at stake. "You know perfectly well 'excellent' isn't always good enough."

"No gestated sparklings ever had abnormalities if you built their protoform." A smile lightened the stern grey face. "You're worrying for nothing. I grant you that your track record on explosive devices is less than stellar, although still impressive, but protoforms are in a completely different category. You always excelled there, and you know it."

Wheeljack sighed through his intakes. "Ratch, it's more than that. We don't have the right alloys here on Earth for a protoform. The Dinobots were nothing like this. It's one thing to build an adult body and transfer a mature spark out of storage. But protoforms and sparklings?" He snorted. "We're in a real bind here."

"I know that." Ratchet sat by him on the workbench. "That's why I've already asked Prime to send a team to raid Iacon's old refinery. I also asked that Hoist and Grapple be included to ensure the very best alloys are retrieved."

Wheeljack gazed at his friend for several moments. "I see you've been thinking this through, too. Who's leading the team?"

"Jazz. He's working on a plan with Prowl and Prime right now. Mirage will help with the infiltration, and Sideswipe and Warpath are going for firepower. I think it's safe to say you'll get the alloys you need."

Wheeljack nodded and glanced back at the article one last time. "Yeah. Jazz never lets us down, and Grapple's a perfectionist." Still, even as he turned off the monitor, he couldn't help feeling worried. "I just don't want the sparkling to have any . . . issues. Or see the look of absolute horror on Sunstreaker's face if there was a flaw." He shuddered involuntarily, his memory banks trying to call up an image that he immediately dismissed. "As vain as he is, Sunny would disown the sparkling in disgust and — "

"Stop it," Ratchet said, his tone unusually soft. "It'll all be fine."

Wheeljack sighed, still disturbed by the entire situation. "I hope you're right."

"I am. Now get some recharge." Ratchet stood. "I suspect you'll have a busy orn tomorrow."

Chasing the ghosts from the edges of his mind, Wheeljack smiled behind his mask. "Yessir! By all means let me not defy the resident CMO."

Ratchet laughed and headed for the door. "Yeah, not if you know what's good for you."

Watching his friend leave, Wheeljack tried to take the reassurances to spark. Surely with the right alloys, all would go well. He nodded to himself and allowed some excitement to filter through his anxiety. "Finally, a new sparkling!" he announced to his lab, then headed to his quarters, protoform designs already racing through his processor.

* * *

_Postscript: To answer a question I got, I have two continuities going in my stories:_

_Movie AU: "No Quiet to Find," "A Second Destiny," and associated one-shots.  
Season 2 Veer-off into an AU: "Sound and Fury," its sequel, and this story._

_Anything that happens in one set is totally independent of the other._

_Thank you to the following for reviews: Kookaburra, Bbratteberget, Shirox, Misao-CG, Sergeant Duck, Kick-Aft, P.A.W. 07, and SSlaxx. Love you guys!_


	3. The Trick is to Keep Breathing

_**Chapter 3: The Trick is to Keep Breathing**_

Inexplicably nervous, Bluestreak hovered in the hallway outside Wheeljack's lab. His recharge had gone poorly the previous night, and his roommate, Beachcomber, had been forced to awaken him from his relentless nightmares four times. He hadn't been plagued so badly during his sleep in half a vorn, but with the added thought of being a genitor weighing on him, peaceful rest was impossible.

Bluestreak shuddered and buzzed the door comm.

"Come in!" came the immediate reply.

Bluestreak triggered the door release and stepped inside a lab that looked like organized chaos. Shelves of mostly identifiable components lined the left and back walls, while the right wall sported a computer terminal and worktable. The door to a storage room stood open in the back. From the racks in the ceiling, multiple tools hung, ready to be used. To anyone but Wheeljack, it looked cluttered, but everyone realized that he knew exactly where everything was.

Wheeljack looked up from the computer. "I'd hoped to see you this morning." His vocal indicators flashed bright blue as he spoke. "But where's Sunny?"

"Still in medbay." Bluestreak shifted from foot to foot. "I know I'm supposed to come see you and Sunny said I should work with you and I'm on second shift right now so it made sense to stop by this morning so I came but I still feel like I'm bothering you."

Wheeljack rubbed his hands together. "Not at all! I'm excited. It's been forever since I got to design and build a sparkling's protoform." He gestured at an open spot on his workbench. "Sit down. Tell me what ideas you've had."

Accepting the gesture, Bluestreak sat beside Wheeljack, but he stared at the computer terminal instead of meeting his gaze. "Well Sunny said it has to be a warrior and have yellow in the paint job and I guess that makes sense because we're in the middle of a war."

"Hold up there." Wheeljack squeezed his shoulder. "It's not just about what Sunstreaker wants. It's your sparkling, too. Having warriors is pragmatic, but who said you had to conform to Sunstreaker's wishes? If that's not what you want for your sparkling, you should speak up."

Bluestreak smiled at him shyly. "I-I guess you're right." He paused and tried to sort out his feelings, for once short on words. "I'd like my sparkling to be the type who resolves conflicts and heals communities but at the same time I think it makes sense to choose a warrior and I want my offspring to be able to defend . . . himself? Herself?" He frowned, suddenly realizing he'd have to pick a body model.

"Now there's a basic question." Wheeljack punched a few codes into the computer, and two generic protoforms appeared on the screen — one male and one female. "No one really knows why our creators gave us genders when we're not sexual reproducers. The reigning theory is that our creators wanted us to socially mimic them." He directed the computer to pull the female protoform to the front. "But regardless of the reasons why we have genders, you need to decide if you want a mech or a femme."

Bluestreak stared at the sleek form of the femme design, and for a moment, all he could see was his younger sister. "I had a sister," he blurted out, not meaning to bring up the past but unable to stop himself. The image brought up painful memories. "She was studying at the local engineering academy when our city was attacked. When you all arrived and started scanning the ruins I hoped Silverwind had been spared but she was dead too just like all the rest." He shuddered, his processor calling up the image of the flattened academy, nothing remaining but charred ruins.

"Blue . . ." Wheeljack's tone was unusually soft. "Would you like to honor her memory? If you two agreed on a femme, we could use her colors and add yellow into the mix. Unless she already had yellow?"

Bluestreak shook his head. "She had a silver base color like mine with blue and black accents." He crossed his arms over his abdomen, pondering the idea. He couldn't replace his sister, but honoring her did sound appealing, almost comforting. "We could design a femme with a silver base color and yellow and blue accents."

"That would work quite nicely." Wheeljack pulled up a color palate on the screen.

Seeing the color swatches, Bluestreak straightened suddenly, struck by an idea. "Yes that sounds good! Silver for Silverwind and me, blue for Jazz, and yellow for Sunny. Plus I want her to have a chevron like Prowl and me." He grinned, able to muster some excitement. "My creators both had silver in their paint so I will be honoring them too and we can make the chevron and face both silver and it should look great on a Datsun model!"

Wheeljack laughed. "Now you're talking." He paused, fingers hovering over the computer controls. "So you and Sunstreaker have agreed to use your Datsun alt mode for the sparkling?"

"Oh, uh, no." Bluestreak slumped. "I guess I got carried away imaging the possibilities but no Sunny and I haven't talked alt modes so I don't know if he'll agree to that or insist that the alt mode be a Lamborghini model."

Wheeljack snorted. "Knowing him, he'll want a Lamborghini designed to look just like him." He patted Bluestreak's arm. "Still, talk to him about it. If he's going to insist on a warrior, then you should be able to insist on something, too. So run the idea of a femme with a Datsun alt mode past him."

Nodding, Bluestreak gave him a small smile. "Okay I will. Would you mind putting together a quick exterior design for us?"

"No problem!" Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed a merry blue, and he seemed to radiate enthusiasm.

Bluestreak impulsively squeezed his arm. "Thanks 'Jack. You're so kind and easy-going." He stood, then paused as a wistful feeling flitted through his circuits. "You know I kinda wish I could have a femme and name her Silverwind. In my region's dialect the name 'Silverwind' was associated with bravery so maybe Sunny would go for that."

Wheeljack cocked his head. "Really? In my region's dialect, the name 'Silverwind' was associated with purity. But, yeah, I'm sure that Sunny would find the bravery connotation appealing."

"I admit I'm beginning to wonder why I'm trying so hard to please him." Bluestreak frowned and walked to the door, then stopped to glance over his shoulder. "Still we are a couple and that means working together and compromising at times and so I do have to forgive him for yesterday in order to get through this."

"Well, that's true." Wheeljack pointed to his computer terminal. "Give me about four joors, and I'll have a draft of the design for you."

"Great! Thanks." Bluestreak exited the lab. In the quiet of the hallway, though, he found himself growing tense. He hadn't even heard from Sunstreaker since their talk in the medbay. As much as he wanted things to work out, he knew that wasn't a good sign.

"I hope he's in a better mood now," he muttered to himself, heading toward medbay.

oOoOo

Bluestreak peaked inside the ICU room and tried to assess Sunstreaker's mood. He was glaring at the holophoto display, his arms crossed over his chest. It didn't bode well and likely meant he was more in the mood for Jet Judo than talking.

"Well?" Sunstreaker asked without looking away from the display. "Are you coming in or staying out?"

Flinching, Bluestreak walked into the room and sat in the chair by the berth. "Uh, when is Ratchet going to release you?"

"He says I have to wait three more breems." Sunstreaker continued staring at the holophoto. "He replaced my SMER first thing this morning, but he wants to wait until my systems adjust and then analyze it for effectiveness."

"Oh." Bluestreak paused, unsure if he should proceed or not. Still, he knew enough about sparklings to know they only gestated for about twelve Earth weeks, so he couldn't put off his questions forever. "I, uh, talked to Wheeljack and we came up with some ideas so he's going to work up an exterior-only model for us. I told him we wanted a warrior and to use yellow in the paint."

"Good."

Getting no further reaction, Bluestreak held in a sigh and continued. "But we have to decide if we want a femme or a mech and what alt mode we want. I had a sister who was killed in the attack on Praxus so I'd really like to honor her memory and make it a femme."

Sunstreaker shrugged. "Sure. I don't care which. It's stupid that we have genders at all, and one's as good as the other."

"Okay." Bluestreak felt his doorwings twitch as a wave of irritation swept through him. Sunstreaker didn't seem the least bit interested in their conversation. "My sister was built with a model very close to mine so I'd also like her alt mode to be a Datsun like mine. Is that all right with you?"

Finally, Sunstreaker frowned and turned his gaze to him. "A Datsun Fairlady Z?" He snorted. "My form is far more beautiful. A Lamborghini Countach LP500S is the only way to go."

"Beautiful?" Bluestreak felt the twinge in his back as his doorwings arched with anger. "That's the last thing to worry about! We have to ensure the sparkling has the best engine and best armor and top speed and top programming. This is a war we're in not a beauty pageant!"

Sunstreaker growled at him. "I realize that! That's why she'll have the best of everything, including looks. If I'm going to have a sparkling, she'll be exceptional in every way, the most exceptional Autobot to ever live."

"Well I hope she doesn't get your ego and arrogance." Bluestreak stood and towered over his lover. "You are so vain! There's nothing wrong with the Datsun Fairlady Z model and I wish I'd known you had so little regard for my alt form. If I'm so ugly why did you begin dating me in the first place or have you just resigned yourself to the fact that everyone you ever 'face is going to be ugly compared to you?"

Sunstreaker glared at him momentarily, then suddenly burst into laughter. "Wow! Carrying a sparkling sure put a lot of fight into you. Maybe we should keep you carrying all the time if this is the result. I can't wait to see you on the battlefield now."

Taken aback, Bluestreak simply stared at Sunstreaker for a klik. "That's rude," he replied curtly, then smacked Sunstreaker upside the helm. "She'll have a Datsun alt mode because I'm the one who has to slaggin' carry her and all you have to do is watch! If I have to put up with the separation pains then I get to choose the model."

Sunstreaker kept laughing. "Whatever! Whatever, whatever." He waved his hands in front of his chest. "If you feel that strongly about it, fine. Just don't blame me when she can't get a date later in life."

Infuriated by the implied insult, Bluestreak stalked toward the door. "Well _I_ got a date from _you_ so it can't be that bad!"

"Hey, Blue!" Sunstreaker yelled after him as he left. "Love the 'tude! Come talk to me again once your programming is balanced."

"Take your head and shove it up your aft!" Bluestreak suspected Ratchet would show up soon to quiet them, but he didn't care and knew Sunstreaker didn't either. In fact, Sunstreaker just kept laughing, and the sound chased Bluestreak out of the medbay.

oOoOo

Neither watching nor caring where he was headed, Bluestreak dashed through the hall, wanting nothing more than to find Jazz or Prowl. He needed to talk to someone about Sunstreaker's attitude, about the whole mess, about why he felt such strange emotions, and about what he should do next. Caught in those thoughts, he wasn't surprised to round the corner and smack right into another mech. He always tended to do that when he wasn't paying enough attention.

"Sorry," Bluestreak mumbled before looking up to see who he'd nearly plowed down.

Wheeljack had one hand on the wall, as though steadying his balance. "Whoa, Blue! Careful. We practically ended up swapping paint there."

"Sorry," Bluestreak repeated, staring at the ground. His emotional programming seemed to be going haywire. First he was irritated, then enraged, and now he felt like crying.

A grey hand clasped his elbow. "Hey, I came to see what all the yelling was about. I couldn't make out what you were saying, but I could hear your voice all the way in my lab."

Bluestreak cringed. "Oh." He brought one hand up to his forehead, hoping to hide the tears of coolant pooling in his optics as his processor tried to overheat. "I didn't realize I was being quite that loud and I'm sorry I interrupted your concentration but you shouldn't worry about it and I don't want to distract you from your work."

"No problem." Wheeljack tugged on his arm, pulling him down the hallway toward his lab. "But you wanna tell me what that was all about?"

Bluestreak tried his best to hold in the words as Wheeljack ushered him into the lab, but he lacked the capacity to restrain his vocalizer. Feeling patently stupid and childish, he released his emotions in a rush. "Sunny said I was ugly!" He clenched his fists and felt tears running down his cheeks. "He said the sparkling should be a Lamborghini so she can be beautiful."

A soft chuckle met this announcement. "You are not ugly," Wheeljack said. "Sunny's just vain. If he really thought you were ugly, he wouldn't date you."

Bluestreak shook his head. "But-but-but he has no concept of what's important in life and it's an insult to me too and why doesn't he see that what really matters are things like family and ending this war and rebuilding Cybertron to the peaceful world it used to be? Why is everything about appearance and superficial stuff with him and how can he say things like that about me when I would sacrifice anything for him if he just believed in me or in us? I swear I care and I care and I care and I have nothing to show for it!" Unable to control himself, he began sobbing.

Strong arms pulled Bluestreak into an embrace. "I know." Wheeljack held him close. "I've been watching you a long time: you think and act based on what's in your spark, and you hate conflict and violence. You want to help others, and you have great empathy for their suffering. But because of that, this war and all its death sicken you, and the gung-ho types like Brawn and Sunny misunderstand you or look down on you."

"It's stupid." Bluestreak cried against his chest, his doorwings vibrating with the violent emotions. "How are we supposed to rebuild our world when all we're surrounded by is senseless violence and how can we claim we protect life if we kill each other all the time? And if I hate that why does that make me a freak or too soft or someone to be made fun of?"

A warm hand rubbed his back between his doorwings. "I don't think you're odd or weak," Wheeljack said. "I believe we need mechs who will dream up and work toward a better future. Don't let go of that idealism." He paused. "Now slowly pull air through your intakes. You need to calm down. Your Gestation Protection program has thrown your emotional subroutines off kilter."

Bluestreak tucked his face into Wheeljack's shoulder, hugging his waist tightly. A clash of emotions warred within him: anger, embarrassment, sadness, horror, and also comfort. "S-s-sorry. I feel so strange." His mortification was beginning to win. "And here I am crying all over you!"

Another quiet chuckle. "I've seen far weirder reactions from carriers, I promise." The warm hand patted his back, then continued to rub between his doorwings, soothing him.

"Weirder than spontaneous tears?" Bluestreak asked, slowly relaxing. Wheeljack's care and understanding seemed almost tangible they were so warm. "Weirder than the inexplicable urge to behead your bondmate or lover?"

Wheeljack laughed. "Oh, much stranger than that! Although the beheading part is pretty standard for carriers at the end of the gestation period."

Bluestreak pulled his head away from Wheeljack's chest and met his gaze. "Oh. If you say so." He watched the engineer for a klik, noting the obvious amusement in his optics and the way his vocal indicators flashed brightly when he laughed again. The mask hid what was likely a smile, and Bluestreak found his presence calming.

"You'll be fine, I promise," Wheeljack said, reaching up with one hand and wiping the coolant off his cheeks. "You just need to remember that the GP program intensifies _all_ your emotions, but like I said the other orn, it makes you especially prone to anger and irritability. You watch out for that, okay?" His tone turned teasing. "Beheadings aren't a good thing, especially for 'bots who don't like to fight."

Bluestreak stared at him in awe, struck by Wheeljack's affection. _Someone other than Prowl, Jazz, and Optimus Prime cares about me?_ he thought, stunned by the prospect. A moment later he realized he'd not thought to include Sunstreaker and felt a pulse of concern over his omission. "Yes sir."

Wheeljack released him and patted his arm. "Good. So should I work up a Lamborghini model and a Datsun model both?"

"No." Bluestreak frowned. "I told Sunny she would have a Fairlady Z alt mode and he actually didn't argue with me so just draw up that design spec."

"All right, then. I'll go back to work." Wheeljack headed for his computer terminal. "I have a ton of new design ideas I've been dying to try out for vorns."

"Sounds good. Thanks 'Jack." Bluestreak smiled at him, realizing he was glad to have run into him. _A new friend?_ he asked himself as he left. _I sure hope so because I need as many as possible right now, and Wheeljack's always so laid back._

In an oddly good mood for someone who'd just been crying, Bluestreak headed for his post early.

oOoOo

Several nanokliks passed before Wheeljack realized someone was standing in his lab's doorway. He forcefully extracted his attention from the sparkling's protoform design and glanced at his visitor. "Your creators certainly named you well, Prowl."

The tactician silently watched him, his grey face impassive, his arms crossed over his chest. Still, a faint twitch in the black and white doorwings told Wheeljack all he needed to know. Prowl was worried about something.

"Come in and shut the door," he said, waving Prowl in. "I've been working nonstop on this protoform for nearly twelve joors. As much as I love tackling new designs, I could use a break."

Prowl entered, the door hissing shut behind him. "Thank you for being so upbeat around Bluestreak. I know it can't be easy for you, but Jazz told me that Bluestreak's been excited about the sparkling's design since talking to you this morning."

For a moment, Wheeljack considered ignoring the implication behind Prowl's words, but he knew it'd never work. "Hey, I always knew I didn't have a chance with Blue, even before he started dating Sunny. Besides, I really do enjoy working on protoforms."

"I wish you weren't so hard-headed." Prowl leaned against the wall, his arms still crossed, and frowned. "Yes, there's an age difference between you two, but out of all the mechs in the base, you're one of the very few Jazz and I would trust to really take care of Bluestreak. And I thought my spark would extinguish when I first saw him together with Sunstreaker." He sighed. "Smokescreen, Tracks, even Sideswipe . . . anyone would have been better than Sunstreaker."

"You're not wrong," Wheeljack muttered, staring back at his computer. A silver, blue, and yellow femme body was rotating slowly on the screen, while on each side a list of specs was aligned. Even thinking about the concept of Sunstreaker and Bluestreak officially bonded made him ill, but he'd been hiding his feelings for half a vorn _before_ the crash on Earth. In his mind, the choice to remain silent about his crush was purely pragmatic. "I'm not sure Sunny's going to hold up under the idea of being a genitor, and they got into another argument this morning. Of course, if they break up that means that Blue will end up raising the sparkling by himself, but with you and Jazz to help, I think it'd be for the best."

"And once again I say you're too stubborn." Prowl paused. "I realize it's none of my business, which is why I've never asked, but at this point I feel compelled to inquire anyway. Why have you been so resistant to the thought of asking Bluestreak out? It can't be just an age issue. There are plenty of bonded couples with far greater age differences than yours."

Wheeljack shook his head. He could list a thousand practical reasons to hide his feelings without even mentioning what concerned him most. "What about regulations? No officers with enlisted?"

"Prime ordered me to ignore that one, pending an official repealing of it."

"You're not afraid I'll accidentally blow him up?"

"I'd rather watch Ratchet repair his physical body than see him take more emotional wounds."

"I tend to work long past my shift and oftentimes because I have to. You're not afraid he'll be lonely?"

"I know you. You'll find a way. Besides, he does have Jazz and me, too."

"But there's also the issue of — "

"Stop making excuses." Prowl pushed away from the wall and walked over to him. "You once told me that it had been painful to watch Jazz and I dance around each other for so long. I finally understand what you meant."

Wheeljack sighed. "That's the problem, Prowl. You and Jazz secretly loved each other and wouldn't admit it. As curious as I get sometimes about what it would be like to date Blue, I also know that I've never been anything than just another random officer to him."

"Don't make me drag Jazz into this." Prowl leaned over him slightly. "If Bluestreak thought he could do better and he and Sunstreaker are fighting, this is the perfect opportunity."

A jolt of fear surged in Wheeljack's spark, and he jumped to his feet. "Oh, no you don't! You swore you'd never tell Jazz. Slaggit, I've never even figured out how _you_ noticed, but I've been extra careful since. Don't you dare turn that tactical computer of yours to matchmaking, and if you unleash Jazz on me, I'll never forgive you."

Prowl held up both hands. "You know I wouldn't break my promise to you, technically, but I do have to weigh all the factors."

"That's dirty, Prowl, and not like you." Wheeljack felt angered at the implied possible betrayal. "You're actually trying my patience here."

Lowering his hands, Prowl turned his gaze upon the floor. "Sorry, Wheeljack, I just have never been good with emotional puzzles. I don't understand why you're so convinced Blue wouldn't date you when you haven't even tried, especially when I happen to know you're ready to be in a permanent bond and Bluestreak is a diehard romantic who daydreams about being spark-bound."

Wheeljack stared at the SIC for long moments, his winglets vibrating slightly with tension as his irritation battled his horror. "Since you threatened to pull in Jazz, I guess I'll have to show you."

"Show me?" Prowl glanced up. "What do you mean?" He paused. "Oh, Wheeljack, if it bothers you so much, I'll never speak of it again. I just wish Bluestreak could be with someone who — "

Wheeljack didn't allow him to finish. He triggered his blast mask open.

Prowl halted mid-sentence and stared.

Preparing himself for shock, disgust, or pity, Wheeljack gathered his nerve and spoke. "Ironic, isn't it?" He forced himself to discuss the issue clinically and hoped Prowl wouldn't glitch. "It was caused by a rare flaw that can arise in protoforms when a spark is gestated rather than infused. An infused spark can't trigger the reaction because the energy transfer comes instantly and directly from the Creation Matrix. When a spark is generated from a merging, it requires transferring the sparkling from the genitor and attaching it to the new body. That stage is where the flaw can be triggered."

Prowl stared at him a few more astroseconds, and Wheeljack feared his CPU had frozen. However, he finally spoke. "I had no idea."

Wheeljack shrugged, trying to evoke his usual carefree attitude. "Well, I began inventing things as a sparkling, but in the end, this is the real reason I went into engineering: so things like this wouldn't happen to others." He gestured toward the screen where the sparkling design still rotated. "At the Engineering Academy, I actually did my thesis on protoform defects and solutions. I wanted a fresh take on the problem, to explore every possibility, and to generate a whole new approach. Until the war started, I worked exclusively as a protoform designer and generated my other inventions solely during my spare time."

Prowl reached up and ran his hand over his chin, but Wheeljack couldn't tell if the gesture was empathetic or simply a sign of his being deep in thought. "It's unusual," Prowl said, "but hardly the most important thing about you. I see why you're uncomfortable with it, but it's only a minor part of a much larger and positive whole."

Wheeljack realized belatedly that Prowl was the last 'bot in the universe who would react emotionally to his appearance. He relaxed faintly, knowing he wouldn't have to face the inevitable horror or revulsion. Out of all those who'd seen his face, the only other one to not be repelled was Ratchet.

"You underestimate yourself. More than that, you underestimate Bluestreak," Prowl said, turning toward the door. He paused as the door hissed open, then glanced back. "If this were an engineering issue and I told you that you couldn't solve the problem, you wouldn't rest until you did. No one can ever tell you that you can't fix something, so why are you giving up so easily now?"

Triggering his mask closed again, Wheeljack stared at the door after it cycled shut. "I wish I could believe you and accept your challenge," he replied even though Prowl was no longer present. "But a lifetime's of experience tells me otherwise. This seems to be the one problem I can't create a solution for."

oOoOo

When his shift ended, Bluestreak headed toward the rec room, having determined that Sunstreaker was there, with the intention of having a long talk with his lover. Ratchet had grabbed him earlier and explained more about the Gestation Protection program and the entire gestation process, leaving Bluestreak feeling reassured and focused by all the extra knowledge. Also, Jazz had cheered him up during his lunch break. Feeling equipped sit down with Sunstreaker had have a serious discussion without arguing, Bluestreak was now determined to apologize if necessary and broach the subject of Sunstreaker's and his future together now that they would be genitors.

The rec room doors parted as Bluestreak approached, but to his surprise, a red blur exited and nearly crashed into him. He yelped and threw up his hands to ward off an accident.

Sideswipe halted abruptly, grabbing Bluestreak's elbows and steadying them both. "Blue! Oh! Er, I'm sorry. Sunny's in a bad mood, and I got slagged off, too, so I was in a hurry to leave so I wouldn't end up in the brig for bashing in my own brother's head, and I really suggest you don't approach him right now because he's been in a foul mood since Ratchet released him from medbay."

Bluestreak realized suddenly how his running dialogue sounded to other mechs, but he didn't waste time analyzing it. He was more concerned about what had made Sideswipe so upset. "Sides? What did Sunny do?"

Glancing away, Sideswipe stared at a point on the wall. "Oh, you know Sunny and his moods. Once he loses his temper, he doesn't care who he hurts."

Unable to tell if it was the Gestation Protection program or not, Bluestreak felt a sense of impending doom. "What are you not telling me?"

Sideswipe started faintly, apparently taken aback by Bluestreak's tone. "Look, let's just leave it alone for now, okay? We can go back to my room and play some video games or something while we wait for Sunny to get over himself."

"_Sides._" Bluestreak felt his patience shredding.

Prowl turned the corner and approached them. "Is there a problem?"

Sideswipe looked like he'd just been caught stealing classified data from Prime's office. "Oh, er, no, sir. I was just — "

Prowl walked up to Sideswipe's shoulder and frowned. "You never get this twitchy unless — "

The rec room's doors, registering Prowl's proximity, hissed open. Sideswipe grew deathly still, and Bluestreak and Prowl glanced past him into the room. There, right on the couch, Sunstreaker and Smokescreen were openly flirting, touching each others' arms or legs as they talked and laughed.

"Isn't Smokescreen dating you?" Bluestreak asked, feeling a deep, slow burn in his tanks. He couldn't seem to move his gaze from the flirts.

"I . . . yes. He was." Sideswipe still hadn't released his arms and in fact tightened his grip. "Blue . . ."

Prowl made a noise almost like a growl. "I _knew_ it!"

Bluestreak felt the burn creep through his circuits and systems, lighting his entire body aflame. With sudden clarity he realized that the Gestation Protection program was indeed intensifying his wrath, but he found he couldn't control the sweeping rage when he already had a reason to be angry. His entire body quivered from the impact of his emotions, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of hatred, and his stare never left Sunstreaker.

"Blue?" Sideswipe sounded worried.

For once speaking slowly and clearly, Bluestreak decided to be blunt. "You have three astroseconds to stop me from killing them both." Then he released the Pit on Earth.

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you to the following for reviews: Sergeant Duck, Shirox, Carmilla DeWinter, Misao-CG, and Figs. Much love to you guys!_


	4. Break Up, Broken Down

_**Chapter 4: Break Up, Broken Down**_

Bluestreak knew that three astroseconds warning wouldn't allow Prowl and Sideswipe time to do anything. He counted on it. He jerked his right arm free of Sideswipe and whipped his rifle from subspace. One squeeze on the trigger and an 80,000-volt shot whizzed at Sunstreaker's head. Sideswipe yelled, and Sunstreaker and Smokescreen ducked. The particle beam punched a hole through the metal wall beyond.

"Blue! No!" Sideswipe pushed him.

Bluestreak stepped backward with the momentum, flipping Sides over his shoulder. He took aim again. "Sunny you slagger you've only known an orn and you're off to frag someone new!" He fired as Sunstreaker pulled his electron pulse gun from subspace. A bolt like blue lightning hit Sunstreaker's shoulder. With a scream, he flew backward into the wall, his armor smoking.

A heavy weight hit Bluestreak's side, knocking him into the floor and sending his rifle flying. Prowl. Strong hands pinned his lower arms to the ground.

"Bluestreak! Stop!"

Bluestreak thrashed beneath him, trying to break free. "Let me go please let me go Prowl that fragger has it coming and I'm not just gonna stand here and take the abuse because I'm so slaggin' _nice_ and _polite_ and _agreeable_! For once in my life I'm gonna stand up for myself and not stand around and watch my life get destroyed!" His rage surpassed his processor's ability to handle, and suddenly he found himself sobbing. He collapsed to the floor, all his strength lost. "Primus! I'm such a fool. I s-should've listened to you Father I know I should have you told me S-sunny was no good but I — "

Prowl stood and pulled him to his feet. "It's all right, Blue." Without preamble, Prowl picked him up bridal style and started down the hall. "Sideswipe! Get your brother to medbay."

Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Prowl's shoulders and buried his face into his neck. The tears of coolant just kept coming, his overheated processor aching with the strain, and all he could focus on was Prowl's calm voice as he issued orders.

"Ironhide, take Smokescreen to his quarters and make sure he stays there until his testimony is called for. Jazz, give a preliminary report to Prime."

Prowl hadn't paused as he spoke, and Bluestreak could tell when they rounded a corner. The shouts in the rec room grew distant and the buzz of the overhead lights took their place. That and the sound of his sobs. "I'm so sorry." He felt like he could never apologize enough.

"Shhh." Prowl tightened his grip, holding Bluestreak close. "I know you are. I wish you hadn't done it since I'll have to punish you, but I do understand _why_ you did it."

Bluestreak cycled air through his vents, getting his tears under control, and hugged Prowl. "I just — I just . . ." He paused, his anger and grief turning into pain. "I can't believe any of this is happening." He glanced up as they turned another corner. "Are you taking me to the brig?"

"Of course. You'll have to stay there at least until your punishment is decided. And until we get Sunstreaker repaired and away from the _Ark_ for awhile." He snorted. "I don't want to imagine what he'd do if he stays here."

Bluestreak accepted this news silently, his emotional programming having dropped him into numbness. As Prowl turned the final corner and headed down the hallway to the brig, Bluestreak saw Red Alert awaiting them, his arm side-panels quivering in agitation.

"As soon as I heard Bluestreak was carrying, I knew there'd be trouble," Red Alert said as they approached. "I just didn't expect this kind of trouble."

"I suspect there's more to this than the anger of a spurned lover," Prowl replied. "Open the last cell for me. I don't want anyone trying to pass by here and say snide things to Bluestreak."

"Yes, sir!" Red Alert turned to the controls, opening the main doors.

Prowl carried him down the length of cells, and only then did Bluestreak realize the full implication of his situation.

"You're going to _leave_ me _alone_ in the brig?" Bluestreak felt a wave of terror. Grey walls, buzzing lights, comm. blackout, and not a mech in sight.

Prowl stepped over the threshold of the final cell and sat Bluestreak on the berth. "I have to for now."

Bluestreak wouldn't release his hold on Prowl's shoulders. "No please Father don't do this to me I'll accept any punishment at all except being left here alone you know what happens when I'm alone like that!" A tendril of hysteria wove its way through his spark.

With a sad smile, Prowl detached his arms and then squeezed his hands before letting go. "You _would_ pick today to start calling me 'Father.' But regulations are regulations, and trying to kill a fellow Autobot is a serious charge."

Bluestreak stared at him, so stunned with the truth of his actions he couldn't speak. He _had_ tried to kill a fellow Autobot. He hated senseless violence more than anyone he knew, and yet he'd tried to _kill_ Sunstreaker.

"I'm reporting to Prime immediately." Prowl walked back to the doorway. "We'll try to sort this out as quickly as possible, I promise."

His terror over being alone collided with his guilt, and he lifted one hand toward the mech he loved like a creator, only to let his arm fall. "Prowl . . ." He shivered, already feeling the darkness rising in his mind.

Prowl stepped through, and the energy bars buzzed to life as soon as he was clear. "In the meantime, I'll make sure you're not alone." He activated the comm. link in his arm. "Prowl to Wheeljack."

A pause. ::Wheeljack here.::

"Thanks to your extensive experience with carriers, I order you to report to the brig and watch over Bluestreak."

::Bluestreak's in the brig?:: Wheeljack's shock was apparent even over the connection. ::Oh, Primus. I can only guess. All right, I'll be right there. Wheeljack out.::

Bluestreak felt his terror ease. "Thank you." He paused, wondering if Prowl was bothered by his referring to him as a genitor, especially using a human word, then continued. "Father." He decided the human word had a nice ring to it and seemed fitting somehow, and Prowl didn't frown.

"You're welcome." Prowl hesitated. "Wheeljack will be here shortly, and I'll work as quickly as possible." Then he left, presumably to determine Bluestreak's fate.

Bluestreak stared at the green energy bars and felt dead, as though Sunstreaker had shot him instead.

oOoOo

Wheeljack had run into Bumblebee in the hallway and gotten the story of what happened, so when he arrived at the brig, he was consumed with the rather inappropriate feeling that Sunstreaker deserved his shoulder wound.

Red Alert was awaiting him. "He's in the last cell." He paused, frowning. "This really turned chaotic, I tell you! Totally chaotic."

"Just let me in." Wheeljack swallowed a sigh over the security chief's twitchiness and wished that for the sake of his health, Red would unwind sometimes. As soon as Red Alert cleared him, Wheeljack walked the length of the hallway. "Blue?" He peered past the green bars and saw Bluestreak sitting on the floor, curled in the left corner.

The gunner didn't look up, which caused a bolt of concern to lance Wheeljack's spark. As soon as the bars vanished, he rushed to the corner. "Blue?" He knelt by him and squeezed his arm.

Bluestreak shivered and slowly looked up, his gaze glossy. "Wheeljack?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He pulled a scanner from his subspace and checked the vital signs of both Bluestreak and the sparkling. "The sparkling is fine, but your main processor is slightly overheated. You need to try and relax. Cycle more air through — "

Bluestreak threw himself against Wheeljack before he could finish his sentence and hugged him. "Prowl told you what happened right? Thank you for coming I hate being alone and sitting here thinking about the fact I almost killed Sunny was tearing me up and I hate violence and what's wrong with me?" He inhaled air through his vents sharply. "And at the same time it also hurts to know he cast me aside so quickly just because I'm carrying! Part of me wants to beat him to slag but-but it also terrifies me that I tried to _kill_ a fellow Autobot while in my right mind and not because of some Decepticon trick."

Wondering if Prowl had an ulterior motive for summoning him instead of Ratchet, Wheeljack nevertheless gave in to his impulse and embraced Bluestreak. "I'm not sure if I would say you were totally in your right mind, and I can only imagine what a horrible shock it was to walk in on Sunny and Smokescreen. You deserve better." He ran his knuckles between Bluestreak's doorwings, caressing his back in the place he knew most relaxed mechs with those appendages.

Slumping against him, Bluestreak continued rambling. "I thought Sunny was serious about me and he treated me special. He said I was different than the others and our relationship was going so well and I thought after he got over the shock that the sparkling would seal our relationship not break it apart."

"It doesn't really work that way." Wheeljack sighed and shifted to settle his back against the wall, pulling Bluestreak with him. "Did you know that before the war I worked solely on sparkling protoforms? I met all sorts of creators and genitors. Some wanted their offspring to be directly infused by the Creation Matrix, and some wanted to spark and gestate. Some were barely adults themselves, and some were ancient. But the one thing that remained constant was this: if a relationship was not solid prior to the sparkling, having a sparkling never fixed it."

Bluestreak shifted and met his gaze. "Why not?"

"A sparkling is a serious responsibility that places strain on even the best of relationships." Although he knew Bluestreak couldn't see it, Wheeljack smiled sadly. He'd never admit it, but he knew more about the subject than anyone realized, some of it from personal experience. "Priorities shift, time has to be reallocated. It's something that changes your whole life. If the couple isn't committed and doesn't have a strong bond of love, the pressure of rearing the sparkling can rip them apart." He cupped Bluestreak's cheek in one hand, barely resisting the urge to caress his cheek seam with his thumb. "I'm sorry, but I'm not surprised it turned out this way for you. Accidental sparklings between unbonded younglings and young adults often result in breakups."

Bluestreak leaned his face against his hand and looked despondent. "Oh . . . I see." He shifted his gaze down. "I must look like a real fool to you and Prowl and Jazz and everyone else for that matter. I'm just dumb and naïve and maybe I really am an easy 'face I don't know but I thought there really was something between Sunny and me. I mean from the start I knew what he would want and I can't say I didn't want it and so I gave in and now — "

"Hush." Wheeljack tucked Bluestreak's head into his neck. "Don't talk about yourself that way. You're young. I've blown up enough experiments to know that it's not the mistakes you make, it's what you learn from them. Granted, you have some serious consequences to face now, but if you grow wiser for it instead of becoming bitter, then you'll be a better mech." He frowned to himself. "Or at least I hope I can say I'm a better mech for not letting my past stupidity turn me bitter."

Bluestreak hesitated, then settled against him. "If I could learn to be half as positive and optimistic as you then I think that'd be a great thing."

Complimented by the words, Wheeljack murmured his thanks. He could feel Bluestreak slowly relaxing, and his circuits tingled from the embrace. Wheeljack wanted to hug him closer, to kiss his helm, perhaps even kiss his lips or stroke one doorwing. He understood far too well what it was like to wish to be special to someone. However, he also knew all his desires and dreams were hopelessly misplaced. That was one _negative_ thing he'd learned from his mistakes. If he were lucky, Bluestreak might come to regard him as an "uncle" or "older brother," but never anything more, and he could never remove his blast mask, much less kiss him.

After several kliks, he realized Bluestreak had fallen into recharge against him. Deeply touched, he shifted faintly so he was more comfortable, then powered down his optics. For all he cared, they could stay like that all night.

oOoOo

"Wheeljack."

The voice startled Wheeljack out of recharge, and he quickly onlined his optics and booted his systems. Prowl stood on the other side of the bars, watching him expressionlessly. "Oh, uh, hi Prowl." He checked his internal chronometer and realized a joor had passed. Bluestreak was still recharging against him.

"Thank you for staying with him," Prowl said, "but Ratchet and Hoist need you in medbay to help with Sunstreaker. Bluestreak burned a hole straight through his shoulder."

"I understand." Wheeljack glanced at Bluestreak, who was also onlining. "Wake up, there. I've gotta go."

Bluestreak sat up and smiled shyly. "Sorry for falling unconscious on you but thanks for staying with me."

"No problem." Wheeljack squeezed Bluestreak's arm, happy to have had even such a small interlude with him, and then himself pushed to his feet. He waited as the bars powered down and joined Prowl in the hall. The bars erected again after he exited. Suddenly suspicious, Wheeljack hovered by the tactician's side.

Bluestreak stood and walked up to the bars. "So what is going on?"

Prowl hesitated. "First let's discuss Sunstreaker. As soon as his shoulder is repaired, he's being deployed on a long-term patrol. The UN had asked us to spare a few mechs to keep an optic on a situation in the U.S.S.R., so we pulled Cliffjumper from the team and added Sunstreaker instead. His tour of duty will last for at least sixty orns, assuming all goes well, but it could extend indefinitely depending on the circumstances. Chase is going as the scout and Smokescreen as the tactician, so this will keep Smokescreen and you separated as well."

Bluestreak's doorwings twitched. "Okay I see the wisdom in that."

Wheeljack could feel the tension radiating from Prowl and had a bad feeling about what was coming next.

"As for your punishment . . ." Prowl's paused, his doorwings growing rigid. "Optimus Prime has decided that the constraints of our military tribunals are inappropriate for these circumstances, especially since we're dealing with a carrier and we can't follow the usual protective protocols for carriers now that we're on Earth. Therefore, he has opted to convene the enforcers' Open Judicial Assembly, like in Iacon during the Golden Age. Unfortunately, the official charge has to be aggravated assault with attempted murder against a fellow Autobot, which is a felony. There's no way around that fact. Sunstreaker's testimony has already been recorded, and your testimony will be called for in person. Until then, you'll have to wait here."

Bluestreak stepped away from the bars, visibly trembling. "Alone?"

Flinching, Wheeljack could only imagine how much a pacifist like Bluestreak would flog himself for his actions if left by himself.

Prowl frowned. "I'm asking that you be called as the first witness, so you shouldn't be alone for long. I will expedite the process as much as I can, so hang in there. Ironhide will be coming for you shortly."

"Shortly?" Bluestreak stumbled backwards and collapsed on the berth. "But I-I . . ."

"Can't you call someone else?" Wheeljack asked, agonizing over the sight of Bluestreak's pain. "I realize I'm needed in medbay, but—"

Prowl interrupted him. "The Assembly is being convened now. Everyone must attend except otherwise-assigned security and medical personnel." He grimaced. "Work quickly on Sunstreaker. I'll recommend that you are assigned to watch over Blue for medical reasons after you've finished."

Bluestreak moaned softly, curling up on the berth and wrapping his arms around himself. "Please hurry."

"Then let's quit wasting time." Wheeljack turned toward Bluestreak. "I'll get Sunstreaker's aft out of here ASAP!" He rushed to the brig's main door and then transformed and sped through the hallways, nearly fishtailing around the corners. Various mechs jumped clear as they saw him coming, and he cursed to himself during the entire trip.

When the medbay doors hissed opened at his approach, Wheeljack transformed and made his way to Sunstreaker's berth. "We have to work quickly," he told Ratchet. "Blue's having to wait alone in the cell until his testimony is called, and you know how well he'll take that."

"I know," Ratchet said without looking up from his work. Hoist stepped aside to give Wheeljack access.

"I can't believe Prime decided to call an Assembly." Wheeljack scanned Sunstreaker's shoulder, then picked up the necessary tool to help. "I mean, it's better than a military tribunal, but still!"

"Hey, Blue tried to kill me," Sunstreaker muttered.

Wheeljack glared at him. "Shut up. If you so much as smirk over this I'll pound your pretty face into sheet metal!"

Hoist stepped back in obvious shock, and Sunstreaker stared at him.

"Quit stealing my lines and help me finish replacing his shoulder's ball bearing," Ratchet murmured, abnormally calm for the situation.

Wheeljack growled, then fell silent, pouring all his concentration and talent into pulling off the quickest repair job of his life.

oOoOo

Wheeljack barely registered the sound of the medbay doors hissing open, and he certainly didn't look up. Ratchet's testimony had been called for, so with Hoist's assistance, he'd taken over working on Sunstreaker, who they'd put into stasis lock for the major part of the operation.

"I'm back," Ratchet said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Your turn."

Wheeljack glanced up and saw Ironhide waiting at the door. "They want two medical opinions?"

"You _are_ an expert on carriers and protoforms."

"True." Wheeljack handed Ratchet the welder. "I was almost done replacing the armor."

Ratchet immediately resumed work. "I'll have the idiot finished up before you can get back, then."

Wheeljack nodded and joined his escort, Ironhide. "I take it you've been ushering around witnesses for the last two joors."

Ironhide was glancing over the medbay with a frown. "Well, Red Alert and me, yeah." He shook his head. "Anyway, you're our second to last witness, so it's almost over." He guided him from the room.

"Good." Wheeljack frowned behind his mask as they made their way out of the Ark and toward the natural amphitheater outside. "How's it been going?"

Ironhide shrugged. "Optimus played Sunstreaker's testimony first, and then Blue was called. He did pretty good, considerin' what happened an' all. I think Ratchet's testimony made the biggest impact since he was talkin' about the Gestation Protection program, but ya really are the expert there, of course."

"Yeah," Wheeljack replied, feeling pure determination. As an officer, he knew justice had to be upheld, but he detested the concept of following rules just because they existed. Fairness was more important. "I've already constructed the entire speech in my head."

"Somehow I'm not surprised." Ironhide smiled as they exited the _Ark_ and entered the Assembly.

Ignoring the large audience, Wheeljack took the bench that had been dragged outside for the occasion, and Prowl swore him in. Optimus Prime sat on a bench opposite from him while the other Autobots sat on the surrounding slopes.

"Wheeljack," Optimus Prime said, his tone unusually grim and official, "Ratchet has indicated that the Gestation Protection program can affect a carrier's behavior and has vouched that you are an expert on the subject. The Assembly wishes to hear an explanation of those effects."

Wheeljack crossed his arms. "Well, it's simple, really. The Gestation Protection program is written into every mech and femme and exists for the ultimate protection of a sparkling. It will sharpen a 'bot's physical and mental abilities by 200 percent, but it will also unbalances a 'bot's emotional programs and generally causes irritability, short-temperedness, depression, and anxiety."

Prime nodded. "I see. And what is the most likely role the program may have played in Bluestreak's behavior toward Sunstreaker?"

"It probably caused momentary insanity." Wheeljack raised both hands, palms up. "Carriers are already easily angered, so with a proper stimulus, such as finding your lover cheating on you, a normal reaction such as shock, pain, and yelling would be intensified up to 200 percent. The result could quickly become hysteria, rage, and violence."

"So in your professional opinion, Bluestreak's reaction was most likely the result of a programming glitch and not malicious intent?" Prime asked.

"Absolutely." Wheeljack decided to be blunt. "Especially given Bluestreak's normal behavior toward his fellow Autobots. We all know that he hates to fight and kill, and it can't have escaped everyone's notice that a sharpshooter like Bluestreak hit Sunstreaker in the shoulder instead of the spark chamber. Even if it was unconscious, the saner side of Bluestreak was still holding him back."

"Thank you, Wheeljack. You may step down."

Wheeljack nodded and stood, scanning the crowd for Bluestreak. He wanted visual reassurance that Blue was doing well; however, he didn't see him. Confused, Wheeljack returned to Ironhide, who was waiting, as per the ancient protocols, to escort him back to medbay.

"Hey, Ironhide, I have a question," he said as they headed back toward the _Ark_.

"Hm?" The older mech seemed distracted.

Behind them, Optimus Prime's voice filled the amphitheater again: "And by his own request, Prowl will be our final witness. Prowl, please take the stand."

Wheeljack frowned to himself. "Where's Bluestreak? Didn't they let him hear the other testimonies?"

Ironhide shook his head. "Nah. Prime thought it'd make 'im too nervous and wanted ta spare 'im the trauma." He paused as they entered the _Ark_. "Wait, why're ya askin' me that. Isn't Blue in medbay?"

"Medbay? No." Wheeljack got a sick feeling in his tank. "The only mechs there are medics and Sunstreaker."

Ironhide grew unnaturally still. "But I was under the impression Red Alert was deliverin' 'im to medbay for a full systems scan. I mean, I was kinda wonderin' why I didn't see 'im when I came ta get ya, but I just thought Ratchet'd put 'im in a private room."

Wheeljack stared at his friend. "No," he replied, horror washing through his systems. "Oh, no! No!" He transformed and streaked through the halls for the second time that orn, opening his comm. link as he went. ::Wheeljack to the brig.::

::Gears here,:: came the response.

Wheeljack took the corners as fast as he dared. ::Did Red Alert put Bluestreak back in the brig? Is he there?"

A pause. ::Yes, sir. Bluestreak kicked up an awful storm about it, too. It was exhausting to watch. I think he and Red Alert mutually scared each other. Red started fritzin' and — ::

::_What?_:: Wheeljack was so horrified he couldn't think momentarily. He severed the connection and commed Ironhide, who was doing his best to follow him. ::Wheeljack to Ironhide. Red took him back to the brig! You have to let me get him out. He's been in there alone for over two joors. Think about it, Ironhide! He's probably hysterical by now.::

::Slaggit!:: Ironhide growled through the comm. link. ::I dunno what happened, but I'll let ya take 'im out. An' I don't have any problem answerin' to Prime if he doesn't like it.::

::Then radio ahead to Gears. I'm yanking him out of there as soon as I get there!:: Wheeljack accelerated further, terrified of what mental state he'd find Bluestreak in.

oOoOo

Bluestreak cowered under the berth, staring at the brig's green bars, but in his mind, he was in Praxus again, trapped in the cellar, the darkness broken only by the glow of firefight. His creators' bodies were heaps of slag at his feet. Dead, dead, dead. The building shook as another bomb dropped, and smoke tainted the air. Whizzing jet engines, shrill screams, screeching metal, the percussion of strafing runs . . . annihilation. No place to run, no weapon to defend himself. A crash as another home or shop collapsed, wind and dust rushing against the cellar window.

Bluestreak curled in on himself, afraid to look, afraid not to look. Should he see death when it came for him or offline his optics and accept its crushing weight without seeing its face?

"Why can't I die?" he whispered, but his creators could not answer him. "Why didn't I die?" No words would ever come to him in reply. Dead, dead, dead. He talked for them. "I should've died I wish I had died I didn't deserve to live when all of you didn't. I'm a nothing, a no one, a frag up. Let me die let me die let me die."

Silence, darkness, loneliness. His eternal punishment.

oOoOo

Wheeljack screeched to a halt and glared at Gears. He couldn't even imagine what condition the already-traumatized Bluestreak would be in. "Release the fraggin' cell bars!" he yelled as he ran past.

"What's your problem?" he heard Gears ask, but he ignored the comment as he reached the end of the hall.

"Bluestreak!" Wheeljack rushed into the cell the instant the bars dropped. Seeing the young mech wedged under the berth, he fell to his knees. "Blue, you're not alone now. Do you hear me? It's Wheeljack. Please talk to me."

Nothing.

Panicked, Wheeljack reached under the berth, grabbed Bluestreak by the arms, and pulled him out. "Blue? It's all over now, okay?"

Bluestreak's armor was cold to the touch, and he was trembling faintly, which was the only sign he was online. Wheeljack embraced him, holding him close and rubbing his arms, his back, his helm, anything he could reach. He no longer cared who saw or what they thought; he just wanted Bluestreak to be comforted. "Let's get you out of here, okay?"

"Aren't I dead?" came the faint whisper.

Feeling spark-crushed, Wheeljack nuzzled Bluestreak's chevron. "No, sweetspark. You're not dead." He gathered the smaller mech in his arms and picked him up as he stood.

Gears and Ironhide were both hovering in the cell door, staring at him with blatant shock. Wheeljack marched past them, knowing the rumor mills would start but still unconcerned.

"I'm filing an official complaint," he said to Ironhide as he left. "I want to know why this happened. It amounts to torture. You can tell Prime to expect me." He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "And report to the Assembly what has occurred. I think they should know before they decide Bluestreak's punishment."

"Sure, 'Jack," Ironhide replied quietly.

With a nod, Wheeljack left, holding Bluestreak tightly.

oOoOo

Slowly Bluestreak became aware of warmth, then light. Hands were touching him, gentle hands stroking his back and doorwings, easing tension from them. A berth. He was lying face down on a recharge berth that was turned up to its top heat setting. A soft yellow glow. A lamp! He wasn't in the dark anymore. And the kind hands rubbing his back —

Reassured, Bluestreak forced his optics fully online and focused. Someone's personal cabin, a mech kneeling on the floor by the berth . . . "Wheeljack!" He tried to sit up, but the hand on his chassis kept him down.

"Relax." Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed pale blue, so faint it was hardly noticeable. "You're fine, I promise, and so is your sparkling. Ratchet and I both checked you over."

Bluestreak glanced around the one-mech cabin, which was decorated with holophotos of Iacon and artistic renderings of famous mechanical designs. "Your quarters?"

"Beachcomber is still away on his mission, and I knew you wouldn't want to be alone." Wheeljack gestured at his door. "Besides, I modified my door lock. No one can override it without taking the time to hack it first."

Bluestreak felt confused. "Isn't that against regulation and why do you have everyone locked out?"

Wheeljack patted his back. "Because I also know how much you hate medbay, so I figured you'd want to regain full consciousness in some place more comfortable and not be surrounded by a whole gaggle of 'bots."

Unable to argue that point, Bluestreak finally relaxed. "You came for me, didn't you? I seem to remember the sound of your voice."

"You bet I did." Wheeljack began rubbing his back again.

Bluestreak crossed his arms and rested his cheek on them, keeping his gaze trained on Wheeljack. "Thank you." He paused, unsure how to feel. "Why did Red Alert bring me back to the brig? Prowl promised I wouldn't be left alone for long." Suddenly, he felt more like crying.

"I think it was a misunderstanding." Wheeljack shifted his hands to the doorwings, moving in long, horizontal strokes that forced Bluestreak to rest the hinges. "I know Red Alert would never hurt you on purpose, and Ironhide thought you were in medbay. I'm still filing an official complaint, though."

Bluestreak nodded faintly, his pain becoming oddly fuzzy. He was beginning to feel very warm with those hands touching his doorwings. He knew the action was supposed to be medical in nature, but his body was beginning to react without his consent. He muffled a moan as one doorwing arched against Wheeljack's hand.

"Sorry," Wheeljack said, stopping.

"It's okay." Bluestreak smiled at him. "You're only trying to help. Doorwings are just sensitive." He glanced over Wheeljack's shoulder at his winglets and wondered if they were the same way. "I guess you already know that, though." The thoughts that usually raced in his head had slowed, and he found he missed the touch. "Would you keep rubbing my back? It makes me feel calm."

"Sure." The voice wasn't much more than a whisper. Wheeljack resumed caressing his back in gentle strokes.

Bluestreak smiled again as more tension eased from his frame. Neither of them was talking, and yet he didn't feel the urge of fill the silence. The hinges in his doorwings nearly trembled with relief, leaving him feeling drowsy. "You're good at this," he muttered.

A pause. "Thank you."

A faint sound cut the silence, a zap like a short circuit, and Wheeljack jumped to his feet. The cabin door hissed opened, revealing a frowning Jazz. Bluestreak felt a pang at seeing him, his emotions fluctuating between hurt and anger.

"Man, do ya have any idea how long it took me to hack yer lock?" Jazz asked.

Wheeljack shrugged. "That was the point. I wasn't going to let Blue be bothered unless he asked to see someone." He crossed his arms. "Which, I might add, he _hasn't._"

Jazz visibly flinched. "Hey, don't go takin' it out on me. I had no idea Blue'd been taken back to the brig."

Feeling comforted by Jazz's words, Bluestreak stood and stationed himself between them, addressing Wheeljack first. "It's okay 'Jack so please don't be mad because I'm calm now and you're probably right, it likely was just a misunderstanding."

Wheeljack dropped his arms. "Maybe. But I can guess what it cost you."

"You really are kind." Bluestreak smiled at Wheeljack, touched. Impulsively, he stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you for coming to get me and taking care of me." He released him quickly, feeling oddly shy.

"You're welcome." Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed pink.

Bluestreak turned toward Jazz, mustering all his courage. "Are you here to escort me to face the Assembly?"

Jazz uncrossed his arms and hugged Bluestreak tightly. "Slag, nah, kiddo. When we learned what'd happened to ya, we all decided ya'd already served yer sentence, so to speak. Prowl even took ya off the duty roster for the next orn." He kissed the top of his helm. "I'm here because I just couldn't stand not bein' able to see ya, and Prowler's climbin' the walls he's so worried."

"Oh." Bluestreak managed to smile despite his lingering pain.

Jazz partially released him, keeping one arm around his shoulders and steering him into the hallway. "Please come to our quarters, okay? Prowler's logic circuits are 'bout to freeze from stress. He nearly went into stasis lock when he heard what'd happened to ya."

Bluestreak allowed himself to be led. "Okay." He waved to Wheeljack. "Thanks again! See you later."

Wheeljack waved back. "Any time."

"'Jack was totally ignorin' his comm. while he was lookin' after ya," Jazz said as they walked through the halls, a strange smile hovering on his lips. "I can't believe I had to hack his lock. But he took good care of ya, huh?"

"Yep, he really helped me to relax and I actually returned to full consciousness without screaming." Bluestreak looked up as Jazz shuddered faintly.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo." Jazz squeezed his shoulders. "My spark nearly came outta my chest when I heard what happened. If I'd known, I would've saved ya."

Bluestreak leaned into the embrace and wrapped one arm around Jazz's waist. "Good 'cause I was really hoping you did kinda consider yourself my replacement . . ." He paused, wanting to say 'Father' since Jazz liked Earth culture so much, but realizing it didn't really fit him. "Um, my replacement Dad or at least I thought you did and I didn't want to consider that you really would abandon me and — "

"Never." Jazz stopped them in front of his cabin door and turned him to face him. "I ain't gonna abandon ya, kiddo, and this whole thing's got Prowler and me really upset. So please never question our feelings for ya."

Bluestreak gave him a small smile. "Okay."

"Good." Jazz punched in his access code. "Let's get ya to Prowler, then."

The door hissed open, revealing Prowl sitting at their personal desk. He was staring at the door, optics wide, and datapads cluttered the normally neat desk.

"Bluestreak?" Prowl stood abruptly. "Are you all right?"

Jazz ushered Bluestreak into his quarters, the door sliding shut behind them. Bluestreak turned his small smile upon Prowl. "I think so I mean it was really bad and I guess it was just an accident or something but I don't really know and at least Wheeljack figured out what was happening and — "

Prowl rushed around the desk, grabbed Bluestreak, and hugged him. "I apologize! I should have realized something was wrong, and I promised you wouldn't be alone except for a brief time."

Bluestreak froze, shocked by Prowl's blatant display of affection, then relaxed and hugged him back. "Apology accepted. It wasn't like you did it on purpose and yes I was hurt at first because I had to wonder if you'd just let it happen due to regulations or something but I realize that wasn't it so now I feel much better."

"I'd never do such a thing to you on purpose," Prowl whispered, tightening his embrace.

Bluestreak nodded mutely, relieved beyond words.

Jazz stepped up and hugged him from behind. "Yer stayin' with us the rest of the evening and all night if ya want."

"Yes, we'll make sure you don't spend a single moment alone," Prowl said. "And please keep calling me 'father.'"

"Okay, Father." Bluestreak relaxed into their arms, feeling safe in the knowledge that even though he didn't have Sunstreaker to help him care for the sparkling, he did have 'parents.'

* * *

_ Postscript: Thank all of you so much for the reviews! Much appreciation to The Plushi, Carmilla DeWinter, PrancingTiger86, Sergeant Duck, keyguardian, Hellen, Apocrypha Blessing, Kick-Aft, Kookaburra, Misao-CG, flarey phoenix, blackhorse1, and Shirox. I had been worried that the pairing would draw very many readers, so you all are really inspiring me._


	5. To Be Loved

_**Chapter Five: To Be Loved**_

Balancing two energon cubes in one arm, Bluestreak buzzed Wheeljack's lab door, his doorwings twitching with excitement. "Hey 'Jack it's me can I come in?"

"Sure!"

The door opened with a hydraulic hiss, and Bluestreak ran inside, grinning at the engineer. "So you finished my sparkling's design yesterday? Really?" He set an energon cube on the worktable. "I brought you some breakfast just in case you hadn't stopped to get any. You must have worked really hard after I left with Jazz and I'm so excited so please show me!"

Wheeljack chuckled, his vocal indicators flashing their normal bright blue. "Have a seat." He extended a tube from his chest and attached it to the cube, draining it rather quickly. "Heh, I did forget breakfast. Thanks."

Bluestreak sat by him and wondered not for the first time why Wheeljack never retracted his blast mask, even to refuel. "You're welcome."

"How did your recharge go last night?"

Bluestreak shuddered faintly at the memory. "Well enough, I guess. Prowl and Jazz had to wake me up from several nightmares but with them there it wasn't as bad as I thought." He paused, realizing Wheeljack was watching him with clear worry. "I'm fine now really so please show me the designs."

Punching a few buttons, Wheeljack brought up blueprints on the computer screen. "Okay, then, here you have it. Exterior design and basic interior systems. Let's start with the outside: femme root mode with silver and blue base colors."

Bluestreak stared at the picture, enraptured. The femme had a royal blue helm, doorwings, chest, hips, calves, and feet. Her face, arms, hands, midsection, and thighs were silver. A silver chevron graced her helm, and yellow stripes accented her torso and doorwings. "She'll be lovely!"

"You remember meeting Arcee, right?" Wheeljack pointed to the helm's fancy design. "I based her helm on Arcee's."

Bluestreak nodded. "We were on a team together once, about a vorn before the Ark crashed." He squeezed Wheeljack's arm, hopping slightly in his seat. "It's perfect! What about her alt mode?"

"A Datsun Fairlady Z, as requested." Wheeljack brought up a second image, showing a silver and blue car with yellow racing stripes.

"Hmm." Bluestreak pondered the picture for a moment, wondering if he should remove the yellow. It looked good with the blue and silver, but it also hurt to see. Sunstreaker had departed on his mission not long after Wheeljack had rescued him, and somehow his absence underscored for Bluestreak that their relationship really had ended. He had been left to carry the sparkling alone, and he feared Sunstreaker wouldn't have anything to do with the sparkling even after he returned. That possibility hurt him in more ways than he could count.

Then again, Prowl and Jazz had promised to help him rear the sparkling. At that thought, an idea struck Bluestreak. "Prowl, Jazz, you, and I all have red in our paint and since you've helped me I'd like to represent you somehow too. Would you give her one large red stripe with two thin yellow stripes running through it?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

Even without seeing his lower face, Bluestreak could tell Wheeljack was smiling. The engineer typed in a few lines of codes, and the image altered to show the edit.

"Like this?"

Bluestreak clapped his hands in excitement. "Yes that's perfect 'Jack you're awesome!" For the second time in two orns, he impulsively hugged him. "Thank you for working so hard."

"Hey, like I said, I enjoy designing sparklings." Wheeljack embraced him in return and rubbed his back.

Holding on a moment longer than was really necessary, Bluestreak realized he could get used to the relaxing backrubs. He pulled away, his faceplates a bit warm, and grinned. At first he had been convinced he'd dreamed it, but on reflection he was sure he hadn't: when Wheeljack had rescued him, he'd called him "sweetspark." It wasn't a term of endearment he was used to hearing. His first lover, an Autobot warrior around Ironhide's age, had called him that during 'facing, but no one before or since had used it. Bluestreak still remembered the good-natured mech with fondness despite the fact he'd been killed not long into their relationship. Hearing someone use the term again offset some of his pain.

After a moment, Bluestreak realized he and Wheeljack were staring at one another, and Wheeljack was gazing at him intently, as though deep in thought.

"Oh sorry." Bluestreak looked away, staring at the protoform. "It's sinking in very slowly that Sunny's gone and we're over and he'll probably refuse to have anything to do with Silverwind." He sighed. "It's weird because I'm so angry at Sunny right now that I'm not sad but then again he made me feel special so I am upset but at the same time it occurs to me that I won't have to dodge his bad moods anymore or worry about whether I should or shouldn't say something and when I think about it that way I wonder if what we had really was love or not." He frowned, the memory of Sunstreaker and Smokescreen flirting flashing through his processor. "Well obviously he didn't think it was love."

For a moment, Wheeljack didn't reply. "Sometimes 'bots can mistake deep infatuation for love." He paused and stared beyond Bluestreak's shoulder, almost as though he were looking through the wall. "But real love is blind in the sense that you look past physical appearances or minor flaws, which is how you can differentiate it from passion or lust. It's also selfless, in the sense you don't mind giving your time and energy to the one you love, but when it _is_ real love, the other 'bot gives you just as much time and energy in return."

Bluestreak held back the urge to gape at him. "That's a beautiful definition!" He stopped and considered the words and what they really meant. "The other 'bot gives back all the time and energy?"

"Yes." Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed a soft blue that matched his quiet tone. "Love is ultimately dual sacrifice. If one person is doing all the giving, all the work, and all the sacrifice, that's not love."

Bluestreak put his hand on his chassis, over his spark chamber, and realized suddenly that he had become a genitor without even experiencing real love. "Oh." His mood took a sharp turn, leaving him depressed. "Well I guess I totally bombed that. I mean . . ." He let his words trail off as the truth of his feelings began to unfurl in his mind.

"Don't beat yourself up so much." Wheeljack patted his arm. "How many mechs do you think get it right the first time?"

Bluestreak gazed at the hand on his arm and considered Wheeljack's behavior. Ever since the engineer had learned he was carrying, he'd been extremely attentive, even affectionate and protective. He'd always been kind and friendly, but now his behavior fit with that of other 'bots who had wanted to share a berth with him. And yet it didn't. Wheeljack was protective, unlike the others, and he actually seemed interested in sparklings instead of horrified. It was different, and not in a bad way. He just wasn't sure what Wheeljack wanted, exactly. All that was clear was that he wanted something.

"Blue?" Wheeljack asked, sounding worried.

Bluestreak jerked himself from his thoughts. "Sorry about that and I see your point because I suspect most mechs don't get it right the first time and I think maybe it really is the mystery some say it is."

"I don't know that it's a mystery," Wheeljack replied. "It's just something that can't be forced."

Fascinated by this view of love, Bluestreak gazed at him for a moment, then found himself feeling oddly shy. "Um, you said you'd worked up the basic interior systems too?"

Wheeljack shook his head faintly, as though to clear fuzz from his processor. "Oh! Yeah, I have. Want to see what I have so far?"

"Yes." Bluestreak scooted a bit closer to him and leaned toward the screen, listening closely to every word the engineer said. Even though he wasn't sure what Wheeljack wanted, he realized he couldn't think of a better way to spend his morning. Somehow, Wheeljack made him feel relaxed and happy.

oOoOo

In the privacy of his lab, Wheeljack found himself staring at the door, unable to move his gaze after Bluestreak had left. All morning, until Bluestreak's shift had started, they had sat nearly thigh-to-thigh while Wheeljack explained the sparkling's interior systems, and Bluestreak either agreed or asked for a minor alteration. For four joors, Wheeljack had held in faint shudders when Bluestreak's doorwing had brushed his winglet or when their hands had touched as they accidentally reached for the computer controls at the same time. It had been vorns since he'd wanted to kiss someone so badly, and he thought he'd long since killed such desires, knowing no one would agree to be kissed by him. Now he found himself staring at the door Bluestreak had just exited, his frame trembling faintly from restraining his arousal.

"Get a grip," he whispered to himself, trying to break his near-trace. "He and Sunny just broke up, he's carrying a sparkling, he'd never get past your face, and he probably wouldn't think of you that way to begin with." He sighed, feeling the usual complacency settle over him.

The door comm. buzzed, causing him to jump. He faced his computer terminal and put his hands over the controls, hoping to at least look like he hadn't been daydreaming like some youngling. "Come in."

The door hissed open, revealing Ratchet. "I figured I'd find you working on that design." He stepped in, triggering the door closed behind him. "Well, you'll be happy to know that Jazz and his team just left on Omega Supreme, so you should have the material to begin construction soon."

"That's good. Bluestreak just approved the final exterior design." Wheeljack glanced at his friend, noting the way he'd crossed his arms over his boxy chest and leaned against the wall. For a moment, he remembered Prowl taking the same stance, even leaning against the same spot on the wall, and had a sinking feeling. "What?"

Ratchet gave him a mock smirk. "I ordered them to gather twice as much material as we need if they can."

"That's good. It's always better to have extra in case of a problem." Wheeljack couldn't reconcile the smirk with such factual words. "Now why do you have that look on your face?"

"Am I that obvious?" Ratchet chuckled. "It's because I'm going to use some of the extra material to reconstruct your face."

"You're _what?_" Wheeljack stood, his emotions so mixed he didn't know how to feel. "Look, my creators tried to reconstruct my face a dozen times. Every time I went through my upgrades, they tried to make me 'normal.' Granted, I at least _have_ a full face now, but the flaw could never be cancelled. No matter how perfectly they reconstructed me, some material corruption always took place."

"You finished now?" Ratchet raised one optic ridge.

Wheeljack sighed and sank back onto his bench. "You have some plan, don't you?"

"Given the nature of your problem, I know I have to use protoform-grade alloys if I want to attempt surgery, but I'm going to mix the Cybertronian alloys with some Earth ones. They haven't over-mined their planet the way we have." Ratchet uncrossed his arms. "Look, I know enough about your condition to know the problem got encoded at the CNA level, so no matter how many times I fix it, you'll still manifest some small flaw as the metal is recognized by your body and integrated. But you just said yourself that every time you undergo surgery, the flaw lessens."

The mechanical engineer within Wheeljack recognized the plan as solid, but his spark still ached. He buried his face in his hands. "Do you even care what I want?"

Ratchet didn't immediately reply, and Wheeljack heard footsteps cross the room. His friend sat beside him. "Of course I care what you want. But with Earth's resources, I can give you a working jaw, increase the range of motion for your lower face plates, and reconstruct the end of your nose. You'd actually be able to drink energon through your mouth."

Wheeljack refused to look up. His emotions finally settled and presented him with a single feeling: hurt. "Why do you have to fix me? Does it bother you to know I'm so hideous beneath this mask? Despite my flaws, I thought you accepted me as _me_."

"'Jack! That's not what I mean at all." Ratchet put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. "I don't care what you look like. But _you_ care. You care enough to not let anyone besides medics see your face, and as a result, you've never bonded." He sighed. "Don't play me for a fool. I saw how angry you got on Bluestreak's behalf, and I watched you carry him into medbay to be checked over. I've been suspicious for awhile, but then you whisked him away to your quarters so he wouldn't have to wake up in medbay. I _know_ you, 'Jack. It was a dead giveaway. You love Bluestreak."

Wheeljack shuddered and left his face buried in his hands. "Great. First Prowl and now you. Don't you dare get the rumor mill started." He remembered Gears and Ironhide overseeing his rescue of Bluestreak and felt a processor ache coming on. The rumor mills wouldn't stay silent for long, anyway.

"I won't tell anyone." Ratchet grabbed his wrist, pulling one hand away from his face. "Look at me."

With a sigh, Wheeljack complied. "What?"

"This has gone on long enough. You deserve to be happy, to be bonded, to be with someone you love." Ratchet tapped his blast mask. "If your face is the only thing stopping you, then it's time to get it fixed. You can draw up the design specs yourself, just let me do this."

Wheeljack stared at his friend, looking past his gruff tone to the sincere care showing on his face. "I'll consider it. I'm not sure you understand what it does to me to undergo surgery just to watch it fail." He tensed, the image of his creators' disappointed expressions forever burned into his memory banks.

"Fair enough." Ratchet released him and stood. "I won't fail, though. And as soon as you're out of recovery, I want you to sweep Bluestreak off his feet. Provided, of course, you don't mind becoming a surrogate creator in the process."

Wheeljack snorted. If Ratchet only knew how much that didn't bother him! "'Sweep Bluestreak off his feet.' Since when were you such a romantic?" He turned and pointed at his computer monitor. "The sparkling isn't a problem, though. I mean, really. I'll be building its body anyway."

Ratchet grinned. "Good. I think you'll make a wonderful creator." He whisked out the door.

Watching him leave, Wheeljack found himself staring at the door once again, struck by the layers of unintentional irony in their conversation. "Funny the way you talk like I've already agreed to the surgery and won Bluestreak's spark."

Of course, Ratchet had left, and the lab walls had no reply for him. Wheeljack sighed and stood. "Oh, well. Now's as good a time as any to talk to Prime." Gathering his courage, he exited the room.

oOoOo

Wheeljack buzzed Optimus Prime's office door and waited. The talk with Ratchet had left him shaken, and knowing he was there to lodge a complaint made him downright nervous. Still, he couldn't be at peace with what had been done to Bluestreak.

"Enter," came Prime's voice, and the door opened for Wheeljack.

He stepped in and found himself automatically standing at attention. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but unless one has already been levied, I'm here to file an official complaint."

"Ironhide told me you'd come to see me at some point." Optimus gestured to one of his office chairs. "I understand that you were extraordinarily upset over what happened to Bluestreak."

Wheeljack took a seat. "Yes." He paused. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted." Optimus leaned back in his desk chair.

"I don't understand how Red Alert could have made such a mistake." Wheeljack sighed. "To be truly honest, I'm not sure why you convened an Assembly in the first place. Carrier behavior dysfunction is infamous."

Optimus nodded. "Wheeljack, I'll only say this once: Given the nature of our situation here, I don't regret using the ancient assembly method, but it's obvious we were not careful enough in reviewing the standard procedures. Red Alert is usually so diligent in his duties that I forget just how young he is. When I saw him leaving with Bluestreak, it didn't occur to me that he would take him anywhere other than medbay."

Wheeljack knew Prime well enough to realize he felt guilt over Bluestreak's suffering. "Yeah, I guess he was built after the final Assembly was even convened."

Optimus nodded once more. "And now Red Alert is traumatized over Bluestreak's trauma. Absolutely horrified." He sighed, clearly worried about the entire incident. "But despite all that went wrong, the fact remains that we must uphold the law, so I stand by my decision to use the Assembly. After all, we cannot have Autobots trying to kill other Autobots for any reason, least of all a personal one."

"I know," Wheeljack said. "But that being said, I'm glad you didn't give Bluestreak a 'second' punishment. He will be scarred enough as it is." Seeing Optimus flinch at those words, Wheeljack let himself relax, his leader's concern helping to put him at ease. The Decepticons made fun of it, but Wheeljack considered them masochistic fools for not understanding that authority required both discipline and compassion. "After all, his normal reaction wouldn't have been so violent. I mean, he loathes fighting, even when his opponents are the Decepticons."

Optimus sighed once more. "Indeed." He folded his hands on his desk. "I called Bluestreak in at the beginning of his shift today and had a talk with him. I reassured him and built him back up. What happened can't be undone, so we must help him heal and move forward."

"Heal and move forward?" Wheeljack echoed, his conversation with Ratchet ringing in his memory banks.

"Yes." Optimus's calm gaze fell upon him. "We can't allow Bluestreak to focus on the past anymore. We can't let him resent Red Alert or allow him to carry the burden of Praxus's destruction. He has to move forward and not let his grief control him. He's going to be a genitor. Everyone should live in the present and for the future, but genitors and creators most of all."

Wheeljack remembered suddenly why Optimus was their Prime. "That's . . . true."

"I'm glad you agree." Optimus leaned back in his chair again. "We can't undo Bluestreak's scars, but we can help him to heal. We can't erase the Gestation Protection program, but we also can't let him use it as an excuse for bad behavior. Not that I believe he will. When I talked to him, I realized he felt full responsibility for his actions."

"Yeah, he was horrified at the thought he'd nearly killed Sunstreaker." Wheeljack frowned to himself, remembering Bluestreak's panic.

"I don't doubt that. But what most concerns me is that he sees himself as a victim." Optimus gestured to the painting of Cybertron on his wall. "He _was_ a victim of one of the Decepticons' most brutal attacks, and I understand the concept of survivor's guilt. But he can't afford to continue to see himself as a victim. It undermines his self-esteem, and I'm afraid that in the long run it could make him bitter — one of those mechs who always blames others for his problems."

Wheeljack shuddered at the thought of it. "No, we don't want that."

"Then help me help him." Optimus stood, walked around his desk, and squeezed Wheeljack's shoulder. "Because you are an expert on carrier behavior and will be spending time with him while the sparkling is designed and built, work with him and enable him to see that he is not helpless before the tide of fate."

Wheeljack smiled behind his mask. "Of course, sir."

Optimus patted his shoulder. "You've always been easygoing, reliable, and caring, Wheeljack. I think the influence of someone like you will help Bluestreak tremendously."

"Thank you." Wheeljack gazed at Optimus, wondering if he had any idea that he'd reassured and built up him probably as much as he had Bluestreak.

_The sign of a great leader,_ he thought as he excused himself and left.

oOoOo

After joors of pouring his attention into the more specialized internal systems of the sparkling, Wheeljack jumped in surprise when his lab door comm. buzzed. Mentally reconnecting with the world outside of complex programming, he glanced toward the door. "Come in."

The door hissed open, revealing a mischievously grinning Ratchet. "Greetings, my friend."

Wheeljack was immediately suspicious. "What do you want?"

"Don't be that way." Ratchet adopted an air of mock innocence. "I just thought you should know that Prime had to deploy a team to the Grand Canyon because Teletraan picked up some Decepticon activity there. Prowl's heading up the team, and Beachcomber practically begged to be included."

Wheeljack stared at him blankly, not understanding the significance of this information, or at least not why it would cause Ratchet such glee. "And?"

"Jazz is on Cybertron. Prowl and Beachcomber are on a mission." Ratchet leaned against Wheeljack's computer terminal. "So that means Bluestreak has to spend the night alone or forego recharge altogether. And it's probably the latter because Sides just told me Bluestreak was sitting by himself in the rec room, watching 'Bee and 'Jumper play video games."

Wheeljack raised one optic ridge. "And you're telling me this _why_?" He had to secretly admit he didn't want Bluestreak to skip recharge because his roommate and adoptive creators were gone, but he didn't appreciate matchmaking attempts, regardless of whom they were from.

"Don't be a glitch!" Ratchet leaned over him and punched the terminal with one fist. "You deny yourself anything and everything that makes you happy except inventing. I told you I'd fix your face, so get out there and turn on your charm, slaggit!"

Wheeljack stared at him for a moment, then the humor of the situation won and he had to laugh. "You make a terrible matchmaker!"

Ratchet sighed. "I'm not really trying to play matchmaker. I want to see you _happy._ Blue's sweet. Traumatized, but sweet. Since neither his trauma nor the way he expresses it bothers you, I really think the two of you would be good for each other."

"Heh. Now I have both you and Prowl pushing me toward him." Wheeljack saved the work on Silverwind's protoform, which he'd basically finished, and stood. "All right. I'll go check on him, but only under one condition."

"And that is?"

"That you don't try to intervene anymore." Wheeljack slapped Ratchet on the shoulder as he walked past him. "If this is going to work, then it can't be forced. Blue and I have to figure it out and go at our pace and in our own way."

"Sure, 'Jack."

Wheeljack shook his head and made his way toward the rec room, but secretly he was somewhat touched. Even when he was stubborn, Ratchet really was a good friend.

As soon as the rec room doors hissed open, Wheeljack spied Bluestreak sitting at the table in the far corner, staring at his half-consumed energon cube. The room was mostly empty and quiet now, the gamers apparently having departed. Grapple was pouring over a datapad in the opposite corner from Bluestreak, and Inferno was sitting on the couch, a depressed-looking Red Alert reclining against his shoulder. Only Inferno noticed his entrance and gave him a silent nod as he made his way to Bluestreak.

"Hey," Wheeljack said when he reached the table. "Ratchet said Jazz, Prowl, and Beachcomber are all gone on missions."

Bluestreak glanced up and, oddly enough, didn't look surprised to see him. "Hi. Yeah, they're all away and I tried to go back to my room but after my experience in the brig I couldn't even step through the doorway which I guess sounds really pathetic but — "

"Not at all," Wheeljack interrupted, sitting in the booth beside him. "What you went through in the brig, although unintentional, was tantamount to torture. It'll take awhile to work through, but Prowl, Jazz, Beachcomber, and I will be glad to help you."

Bluestreak nodded silently.

Wheeljack watched him closely, realizing the silence was a bad sign. "What's wrong?"

Bluestreak gave him a small, sad smile. "I've been thinking about what you said about love. And I thought about why I was with Sunny and what happened. And I realized I really just wanted someone to love me. I wanted to be wanted. I didn't want to be alone, and I guess I was willing to give anything it took to get that."

Wheeljack shook his head. "Blue, you have to value yourself first. It's not enough to not be alone. You have to be happy, and you can never be that if you put yourself last and let others walk all over you."

"But no one wants to be around me. I annoy them." He grimaced. "I have nothing else to offer except 'facing."

For a moment, Wheeljack's horror eclipsed his ability to speak. "T-that's _not_ true!"

"Isn't it?" Bluestreak dropped his gaze. "Sunstreaker hated me when I first joined the Autobots. He said I was useless because I don't really like to fight. And I don't. I don't have charisma like Jazz or a brilliant tactical mind like Prowl. I don't have medical training like Ratchet or engineering knowledge like you. I'm not easy to get along with like Bumblebee or an excellent tracker like Hound. The only skill I have is sharpshooting, but I hate to fight. And I talk so much it runs everyone away, so the only thing anyone has any use for is what I can do on the berth."

Wheeljack had never felt so mortified. "You completely underrate yourself! Despite your pain, you care and are good-natured. Because of that, you lighten the mood of those around you. The ones who really know you and pay attention see there is far more to you than just talking, and you really are endearing."

Bluestreak sank his face into his hands. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wheeljack stood and offered his hand. "Come on. Let's go back to my lab. We can continue this discussion there, and I need you to approve the final corrections to your sparkling's interior system design."

Bluestreak glanced up and stared at the hand. "All right, then." He sounded listless, but he took his hand, so Wheeljack pulled him to his feet.

"Good." Wheeljack started to his lab, not daring to let go of the upset young mech for fear he'd rush away. In his worry over Bluestreak, he didn't stop to consider that the action would have any effect on him. However, once he'd pulled Bluestreak into his lab and released his hand, he realized Bluestreak's faceplates had become warm. "I'm sorry," Wheeljack said. "I didn't think about the Gestation Protection program's ability to make you oversensitive to touch. I was just trying to get you here quickly."

"It makes me sensitive to touch?" Bluestreak asked, clearly bewildered.

Wheeljack paused. "Oh, uh, yeah." He thought he'd melt down from embarrassment. "As I'm sure you noticed, sparklings need lots of energy, which makes you extra hungry."

"Yeah, I've been drinking twice the normal amount of energon."

"Well, interfacing generates extra energy, so carriers find themselves kinda easily aroused." Wheeljack was convinced that if he were human, his face would be bright red.

"Oh." Bluestreak stared at the floor. "Well, holding your hand wasn't unpleasant. So you don't have to apologize."

"Well, I just don't want to make you uncomfortable." Wheeljack paused, realizing Blue had begun talking slower around him. He felt touched by the realization. "In fact, I want you to relax when you're around me."

Bluestreak met his gaze. "I do. You remind me of Prowl and Jazz, and I always feel calmer around them."

Wheeljack recoiled internally and tried to gather his thoughts. Although he had been telling himself all along that Bluestreak would never think of him as anything other than an 'older brother' or the like, it somehow hurt to hear it confirmed.

"I'm serious," Bluestreak said, apparently have sensed some discomfort from him. "You're laidback and have a good sense of humor, like Jazz, but you're also super-dedicated to your job and always there when needed, like Prowl. But more than that, you seem to accept me for who I am." He glanced away. "Or at least I think you do because you went to a lot of trouble to help me and you don't tell me to shut up and you actually seem to care if I'm hurt and — "

Wheeljack realized Bluestreak had gotten nervous again and decided he'd better interrupt. "Of course I do." He reached out and grasped the sides of Bluestreak's shoulders, squeezing them, partially to offer comfort and partially from sudden relief at hearing Blue didn't think of him as a third father-figure. "I like you just the way you are."

"You do?" Bluestreak met his gaze again, this time staring intently.

Wheeljack felt his core temperature jump one degree. For a moment, all he could see was an image of him kissing Bluestreak. He could feel a fluctuation in Bluestreak's energy field, one of desire, and tried to tell himself that it was just the oversensitivity at work, but it didn't stop him from reacting. He touched Bluestreak's cheek, tracing the seam with his thumb. "I wish you could see yourself from the outside. You don't give yourself enough credit."

"'Jack . . ." Bluestreak leaned into his touch.

Struck by guilt, Wheeljack pulled his hand away. "Sorry. You and Sunny just broke up, and here I am flirting with you." He released Bluestreak and stepped back, not wanting to accidentally arouse him further.

Bluestreak flinched, a look of hurt crossing his face. "What? So Sunny's allowed to flirt with someone new but I'm not?" He spun away, heading for the door.

"That's not what I meant!" Wheeljack grimaced, realizing he'd forgotten to calculate in the sudden mood swings of a carrier. Grabbing Bluestreak from behind, he wrapped his arms around his waist. "Stop. Please."

Bluestreak froze, then shivered. "S-sorry. That came out all wrong and I shouldn't have reacted like that anyway and can I just say the sudden flashes of irritation are actually quite annoying so — "

"Is it okay that I _am_ flirting with you?" Wheeljack asked softly. "Like I said, you and Sunny did just break up."

Bluestreak shifted in his arms, but Wheeljack didn't let him turn around. "Yes," he answered, his voice equally as quiet. "Just tell me how long you have been interested in me."

Taken aback, Wheeljack wasn't sure he could bring himself to be honest. He decided to be vague. "Since before we crashed on Earth. I mean, if you're asking if this is recent, then the answer is no. But I knew that — "

"Then please just kiss me," Bluestreak whispered.

Wheeljack's spark nearly surged in his chest, half in fear and half in desire. "Okay." He held Bluestreak firmly against him, trapping him so he couldn't turn and see his face. Despite his rising terror, he mentally triggered his blast mask open and gathered his courage. Then he brushed his lips across the back of Bluestreak's neck, just below his helm, kissing him softly.

Bluestreak shuddered and moaned. "'J-jack!" He squirmed faintly, his body growing hot to the touch. "Please . . ."

"Blue," Wheeljack whispered, the name almost a moan, and kissed his neck again, lingering this time.

Arching into the touch, Bluestreak shivered and gasped. "Do you want to 'face? I understand, I promise, and that feels really good."

Horrified and ashamed, Wheeljack triggered the mask closed again and released him. "I won't take advantage of you. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find you attractive, but you're not some cheap sacrifice to be offered up in exchange for whatever scrap of attention some 'bot wants to give you."

Bluestreak turned and rested against his chest. "But I don't want to be alone."

"You don't have to 'face with me to 'buy' my time. If you don't want to be alone, then you can stay with me for free. I don't expect anything from you except for you to be my friend."

"If you want me to be your friend, then I am." Bluestreak met his gaze, then wrapped his arms around his waist. "But I don't want to inconvenience you, and you kissing my neck felt wonderful."

Wheeljack hugged him, tucking his head under his chin. "You're not inconveniencing me. Besides, it's the gestation program that's making you respond to my touch. It could be anyone." It hurt to admit, but it was true.

"I don't believe that," Bluestreak replied, tightening his embrace.

"Thanks, Blue." Wheeljack smiled sadly behind his mask. "That does a lot for older mechs' egos, you know."

Bluestreak snorted, a sound of impatience. "Jazz and Prowl have been hugging me, and I haven't been reacting to them."

"Well, you think of them like creators, so that makes sense. Now, come with me." Wheeljack released him and steered him toward the door. "You can stay in my quarters tonight if it makes you more comfortable."

"I'd really appreciate that." Bluestreak left one arm around his waist as they exited the room and headed down the hallway. "But your berth is only for one mech."

Wheeljack chuckled. "Actually, when I created the expandable berths, I tested the design on my own first. I figured if it broke during recharge, I deserved to be the one that found out the hard way."

"Oh!" Bluestreak smiled. "Okay."

Wheeljack took him to his quarters and extended the berth, which could now easily hold two mechs. "You get comfortable. I need to run an errand to medbay, so I'll be right back."

Bluestreak nodded. "Just hurry."

"I will." Wheeljack rushed from the room, making his way to medbay. When he stepped into the room, he crossed his arms, glaring at Ratchet as the doors cycled shut behind him. Fortunately, there were no patients.

"What?" Ratchet closed the drawer of spare parts he'd been picking through and leaned against the cabinet.

"Fine." Wheeljack realized he sounded half-resigned and half-angry, but he couldn't help it. As much as he wanted this, he didn't want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed.

"'Fine' what?" Ratchet raised one optic ridge and crossed his arms as well.

"I'll let you do the surgery. I've finished Silverwind's design now, so I'll draw you up some specs." Wheeljack sighed. "I'm crazy to go through this again, but there are so many things I've missed out on. If there is even half a chance I can catch Bluestreak's attention, then I need a prettier face." He looked away. "And, uh, a fully working mouth."

A chuckle met this announcement. "I think you have more than half a chance."

Wheeljack faced Ratchet again and stared at him as the medic walked across the room. "What makes you say that?"

Ratchet stopped in front of him and squeezed his shoulder. "Because of the way Bluestreak responds to you." He smiled. "You're doing the right thing."

"I hope you're right. I'm not exactly good with rejection." Wheeljack snorted and pulled away. "Inventions blowing up in my face I can take. Relationships, not so much so." He turned toward the doors.

"Just give it a chance," came the quiet reply.

Wheeljack didn't look back as he left. He'd already taken two chances before, and both of them had been disasters. It was the whole reason he hadn't dated in vorns.

* * *

_Postscript: I realized I forgot to mention in my opening notes on chapter 1 just who it was that inspired to me write this pairing. That's a gross oversight, so let me correct it immediately: Ryagelle's "Unexpectedly Blue" is the story that inspired me to write this. I was trying to decide between Prowl/Blue and 'Jack/Blue, and her story tipped the scales. If you haven't check out her story, you really should. It's on fanficdotnet._

_As usual, I am profoundly grateful for all the reviews, alerts, and faves I've gotten on this story. For reviewing chapter 4, I'd like to give a warm hug to Apocrypha Blessing, Shirox, PrancingTiger86, BiloxiBlueberry, Hellen, The Plushi, Library Drone SAR, and Sergeant Duck._


	6. Frustration and Tragedy

_A/N: Reminder: 1 orn=roughly 1 day_

_

* * *

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_**Chapter Six: Frustration and Tragedy**_

Glancing up from his breakfast, Bluestreak saw Sideswipe enter the rec room and immediately head his way. Despite all the things that had gone wrong since he'd found out he was carrying, one of the things that had gone right had been Sideswipe forgiving him for hurting Sunstreaker. In fact, Sideswipe had interrupted Bluestreak's effusive apology by admitting he'd wanted to beat up his brother for stealing Smokescreen from him, although he did still warn him never to shoot Sunstreaker again.

Therefore, Bluestreak greeted Sideswipe with a smile as the twin grabbed his morning energon and sat across from him. "Hey Sides you're up early for a day when you don't have a mission."

Sideswipe leaned back in the booth and grimaced. "Interference from my bond with Sunny. His team apparently got some 'Con activity early this morning."

"Oh I see." Bluestreak still wasn't comfortable talking about Sunny even though almost sixty orns had passed since he'd left.

"Didn't you have an appointment with Ratchet this morning?" Sides asked, sipping his energon slowly.

Bluestreak grinned. "Yeah and he verified that I'm eight Earth weeks into the gestation instead of seven so I'm two-thirds of the way finished! I can't tell you what a relief that is because I'm hungry all the time and really cranky by the time my shift ends and I get irritated really really really easily now."

"I noticed." Sideswipe gave him a mock smirk. "But didn't you spend the night with 'Jack again last night?"

"_That's just it!_" Bluestreak grew quiet as his yell seemed to echo through the room. Suddenly he found Windcharger, Huffer, Brawn, Mirage, Hound, and Trailbreaker all staring at him. He laughed nervously. "Sorry," he said to the room at large.

Once everyone had returned to their own conversations, Sideswipe leaned forward and smiled. "Still no action, I take it."

Bluestreak sighed and sank his face in his hands. "He won't even kiss me."

"Has he given you a reason for being so resistant?"

"He insists that I wait until after the sparkling has been separated before we get serious because of the influence of the Gestation Protection program." Bluestreak dropped his hands and stared at Sides. "I realize that is an issue since frankly I'd practically kill for a good 'face right now — " He felt his faceplates heat up at the mere thought. " — but I have to admit I don't think this is just about lust. No offense to Sunny and all but 'Jack really does treat me _differently_ than anyone else I've dated, if you can say we're actually dating. He's so respectful and so kind and listens to me without getting annoyed and most of all he puts my feelings first except for one thing and that is the fact I'd like to 'face him senseless."

Sideswipe laughed. "Man, it's funny hearing you say that. You were always so shy about talking about it, even when you were dating Sunny." He sobered and swallowed the rest of his energon in one gulp. "I understand what you're saying. There's someone who treats me differently, too. Not in the same way you mean, but it has the same effect on me. But I can't even imply we're dating."

"Well, 'Jack and I haven't been on an official date yet." Bluestreak's doorwings slumped. "I spend a lot of time with him when I'm not on shift and every time Beachcomber is gone overnight I make sure to stay in his quarters instead but we just flirt and hug." He sighed again, feeling quite frustrated with the whole matter.

"Then is it worth the nuisance?" Sideswipe caught and held his gaze. "Are you sure enough that you want a relationship with him to wait another thirty orns? Because it's possible that he's using the Gestation Protection program's side effects as an excuse to delay, and if he is, that indicates a real problem."

"_What?_" Bluestreak stopped himself and reined in his temper, reminding himself Sideswipe was just trying to help and that his irritation wasn't natural. "Sorry Sides." He paused to consider the question. "I am sure I want to give it a try because I gave him a test and he passed it."

"A test?" Sideswipe frowned, but he seemed curious.

Bluestreak nodded. "He actually did kiss me once right after Sunny and I broke up it's just that he kissed the back of my neck which if anything was worse because I'm so sensitive there! Anyway I offered to 'face with him right then and there . . ." He hesitated, remembering the various reasons he'd offered. Partly he'd been overcome with desire, and partly he really had believed that interfacing was the only way he could get someone to stay with him. But he'd also wanted to see if Wheeljack's behavior would match his beautiful words about love and self-esteem or if it was just a matter of seduction and a one-night stand.

But, no. Wheeljack had meant what he said. Meant it so much, in fact, that Bluestreak was practically in agony.

Bluestreak collected his thoughts and continued. "But he said no. He said I wasn't some cheap sacrifice and that he wouldn't take advantage of me and that friendship should be free."

"Really?" Sideswipe raised one optic ridge. "Well, I can see that, I guess. 'Jack's an honorable mech, and he doesn't casually 'face." He frowned again. "Come to think of it, I've never seen him date. I mean, I know he has, and I met one of his exs once. But it's been, like, _vorns_ since he's been with someone." He frowned and gestured at the three empty energon cubes surrounding Bluestreak. "You know, if you're done refueling now, you should go talk with him. I really am suspicious that something more is up considering how long he's gone without dating. And there are those rumors that he basically blew his face off when one of his experiments went wrong, so — "

Bluestreak sliced his hand through the air in a gesture of impatience. "Those are just rumors." He stood and collected his cubes. "But I understand what you're saying and thanks for worrying about me and I'll take your advice and talk with him." He smiled. "And you should take your advice too because I know you have a crush on Ratchet and you're never going to find out if it will work or not if you never ask him out."

Sideswipe just gaped at him, apparently shocked senseless by his observation skills, and Bluestreak laughed as he threw the empty cubes in the recycle bin and left the room. Still, as he headed down the hallway toward Wheeljack's lab, the implications of Sideswipe's words sent a pulse of fear through him. What if Wheeljack actually only saw him as a friend? Had he done something wrong, or after spending more time with him, had Wheeljack found some kind of flaw in him that he couldn't ignore?

Worried, Bluestreak increased his pace.

oOoOo

Leaning over Silverwind's protoform, Wheeljack narrowed his gaze, zooming his optics in for an extreme close-up of her shoulder mount. Although she would be tiny, they had no choice but to go ahead and arm her, even as a sparkling. Bluestreak had agreed to a single shoulder-mounted rocket launcher, and Wheeljack was going to make sure the welding job was better than perfect since the protoform's alloys and the mount's alloys weren't identical. He'd be damned if he let even the slightest imperfection mar Silverwind. He had never wanted any sparkling to suffer his fate, and he especially didn't want Bluestreak's to.

As focused on his task as he was, Wheeljack didn't realize anyone had entered the lab until Bluestreak spoke.

"Sorry to interrupt you 'Jack but I kinda need to ask you a question if you don't mind because I'm actually a little confused and worried."

Wheeljack jumped at the sudden voice, recognized his visitor, and readjusted his optics as he stood up straight again. "Oh, hi! I didn't expect to see you until after your shift." He was always happy to see Bluestreak, but when Wheeljack saw that he was fidgeting, he became concerned. "Sure. Ask away. What's on your mind?"

Bluestreak rubbed his palms against his thighs. "Um I don't want to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable or anything and you've been really nice and understanding so I feel bad even asking but . . ." He trailed off with a grimace.

_He's talking in run-on sentences again,_ Wheeljack thought, his concern doubling. _He hasn't done that when alone with me in almost sixty orns now._ "What's wrong?"

"Did I turn you off?" Bluestreak paused, a look of horror crossing his face. "Oh! I didn't mean to ask that so bluntly. I mean do you consider us just friends or have you decided to just be my friend instead of date me or did I do something wrong because you'll hug me or hold me but you haven't kissed me since that first night."

Wheeljack felt like liquid nitrogen ran through his frame. Was Bluestreak going to pull away from him? Was he going to demand a kiss as proof of his feelings? But Bluestreak would see his face, and his surgery wasn't scheduled for another three orns. "No!" He held out his arms, only to let them fall. "No, that's not it at all. I really am just giving you time to grieve over your break up and to distinguish your feelings from the demands of the gestation process." It was true, even if it wasn't the full truth. Wheeljack had no desire to begin a relationship with someone just to have them realize their feelings were the result of an unbalanced subroutine. "Besides, I wanted you to know I wasn't after some quick 'facing or trying to take advantage of your pain."

Bluestreak crossed his arms over his abdomen. "But I _do_ know that. You've proved it to me. And I don't think it's just some program making me feel this way. I _enjoy_ your company and I'm happy around you and although I do get mad when I think about Sunny sometimes, I no longer feel pain about it. And the nights I recharge by you are the best and I look forward to them."

"You do?" Wheeljack was nearly overcome with his repressed desires, but for several reasons, he knew he had to control himself.

"Don't you want to date me?" Bluestreak looked absolutely plaintive, hurt washing over his face.

Wheeljack felt stabbed through the spark. "Absolutely!" He rushed forward and pulled Bluestreak into his arms, hugging him tight. "Is this because we haven't gone on an official date? Would you like to go on one?" He realized he was going to have to ask Ratchet to fix his face immediately. He had been putting it off in favor of preparing Silverwind's protoform, just in case Bluestreak was injured and the sparkling had to be transferred early. At this point, though, all Silverwind lacked was her weapons and paint.

Bluestreak wrapped his arms around his waist. "Not _just_ that. But I would like to go on an official date. I mean, everyone thinks we're dating already anyway, so it's not like we'll shock anyone."

"True." Wheeljack relaxed, realizing that Bluestreak's speech had slowed down again. "How about this weekend, since Sparkplug and Spike will be away? They're still trying to wrap their minds around the fact gender doesn't equal physical sex, even though Ratchet explained sparklings to them." He hoped Bluestreak would like the suggestion, given that Ratchet would have plenty of time to reconstruct his face first. Or attempt to, anyway.

Bluestreak nodded against his shoulder. "Okay. That sounds good." He nuzzled his face into his neck, and Wheeljack had to hold back a shiver.

"Any requests?" Wheeljack asked. "I can think of a couple of good spots, but — "

"Surprise me." Bluestreak kissed his neck, nibbling softly.

Wheeljack gasped, a wave of heat rushing through his circuits. "B-blue . . ."

Bluestreak pressed against him, raising his hand to catch the back of his helm. "Don't pull away. Please." Bluestreak eased Wheeljack's head backward, kissing up the arch of his throat and sucking on a cable he found there.

Completely overcome, Wheeljack moaned. "Primus!" He knew he should stop Bluestreak, that things could get out of control quickly, but he hadn't been touched in so long all he could do was clutch Bluestreak tighter.

"Enough!" Bluestreak pushed against him, and Wheeljack suddenly found himself on the floor, Bluestreak atop him. Bluestreak leaned over him, his hands on his shoulders, and gazed at him with burning intensity. "I'm falling in love with you, 'Jack. Do you or do you not feel the same way?"

Wheeljack met that gaze and knew he couldn't lie. "I started falling in love with you a long time ago, before you even dated Sunny."

Bluestreak nodded and lowered himself onto his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and kissing his neck again, working his way slowly toward one vocal indicator. Wheeljack arched faintly under the touch, his circuits tingling, but his fear was also increasing. Bluestreak would want to kiss his _lips_, too, and then he'd see the deformed mess that was his face.

Knowing he had to stop this, Wheeljack raised his hands to push Bluestreak away, but the faint little "umm" he exhaled as he licked his vocal indicator destroyed his resolve. He moaned, his entire body burning, and touched Blue's doorwings instead, caressing them. Bluestreak shuddered, momentarily distracted from his kissing. Wheeljack took full advantage of the sensitivity, stroking the panels until they trembled and massaging the joints in his back.

Bluestreak shuddered and moaned, collapsing against him. "Ahhh, 'Jack, please don't stop!"

"I have no intention to," Wheeljack whispered, his tone husky. He'd repaired enough doorwings to know all their sensitive spots, and he set his knowledge to work, tracing his finger over a sensory node, running his palm over the sensitive tips, generating the warm friction of metal-against-metal with each touch.

Clutching him desperately, Bluestreak arched into his touch, squirming against him and rubbing their frames together. "More! Please, 'Jack . . ."

For a moment, Wheeljack wondered if he might overload just from the sound of Bluestreak's moans and the friction between their bodies. Trapping Bluestreak's head against his shoulder so he was facing away, Wheeljack triggered his blast mask open and managed to open his mouth enough for his glossa to slip out. He licked the edge of one doorwing, going slowly and lapping the metal as he went. Bluestreak's moan turned into a yell, his body radiating heat. Encouraged, Wheeljack repeated the process, dipping down to lick a sensory node as well, while still caressing the other doorwing with one hand. Blustreak grew rigid, gasping sharply, and yelled again as his systems overloaded. Then he collapsed against Wheeljack once more, his systems powering down as he went offline.

Wheeljack triggered his mask closed again, then lay on the floor, his arousal slowly spiraling into guilt. He had wanted to touch Bluestreak, had dreamed countless daydreams of overloading him, but he had also wanted to wait — wait and do it _right_. He'd learned long before the price of moving too fast, assuming too much, and of giving in to emotion. He'd learned the lesson of not waiting. He'd learned it _painfully._

With a faint hum of systems restarting, Bluestreak came back online. "Mmmm." He turned his head to bury his face in Wheeljack's neck. "That felt wonderful."

Wheeljack rubbed his back. "I'm glad, but I, uh, didn't want to move too fast. I didn't mean to — "

"I suspected as much." Bluestreak kissed his neck softly. "Normally I couldn't overload with just touches to my doorwings, but you weren't joking when you said carriers are highly oversensitive."

Wheeljack nodded, still berating himself silently. If this really was his chance to be happy, he didn't want to screw it up.

Bluestreak propped himself up and smiled at him. "I can sense your guilt, you know. I've learned you well enough for that." He caressed one vocal indicator lightly. "Don't feel guilty. I'm the one who made the first move and let myself get carried away. Besides, now I know for sure you really do think of me that way. That you want me."

"Blue . . ." Wheeljack held in a sigh, realizing that Bluestreak was still measuring himself solely by others' physical reactions to him. He wished Bluestreak would believe enough in himself to see he had plenty to offer as a _mech_ and not some 'facing object. "I don't let just anyone share my room at night or hang around my lab when I'm working." He cupped his cheek, caressing one seam with his thumb. "Of course I want to touch you, but that's not all I want."

A slow smile upturned Bluestreak's lips. "Then let's start officially dating."

"Let's," Wheeljack agreed.

oOoOo

Wheeljack rapped his knuckles against the door lintel of Ratchet's office. "Can I talk to you?"

Looking up from a mass of datapads, Ratchet smiled at him. "Sure. What's up?"

Wheeljack stepped inside and settled in the chair across from his desk. "It's about the surgery. Can we move it up?"

"Sure. Barring a Decepticon attack, we can do it tomorrow morning." Ratchet frowned. "Why the sudden rush, though? You've basically been using building Silverwind's protoform as an excuse to dodge this surgery."

Wheeljack turned to stare out the office window, which had one-way glass. They could see out into the medbay, but no one could look into the office. Hoist and Grapple were hunched over a computer terminal, arguing good-naturedly over something onscreen, and Gears was in recharge after suffering one of Sideswipe's more involved pranks. "It's Bluestreak," he finally replied. "I think he's getting tired of waiting. He barged into my lab earlier and asked me how I really felt about him, basically." He cringed. "And he pointed out that we never kiss."

Ratchet sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Have you considered just _showing_ him your face? He's been totally attached to you for sixty orns now, and it's slaggin' obvious he's fallen for you."

"No way!" Wheeljack shook his head in abject terror. "You and Prowl are the only two 'bots to ever see my face and not react with disgust or pity. I couldn't handle either of those things coming from Blue."

"_Wheeljack._" Ratchet glared at him with the 'you-will-become-a-toaster' look. "Do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who can't accept you for who are you are? After all, you accept Blue for who he is, flaws included."

Sighing, Wheeljack crossed his arms and glared back. "I realize that. I also am not so young or naïve that I believe _anyone_ can get past my face. I mean, really. I can't even kiss anyone properly, much less do things like . . ." He trailed off as a series of mental images flashed through his processor, showing him all the things he'd like to do. "Well, and then there's the matter of what abilities I want." His faceplates grew warm.

Ratchet laughed. "Okay, okay. I hear you. I still don't think you should hide anything about yourself from Blue, though. You need to be able to trust him, you know."

"I know." Wheeljack stared out the window again. "But it's nothing against Bluestreak personally. It's more like millions of stellar cycles of experience. I mean, seriously." He glanced back at his friend. "The only mech and femme to ever date me were both medics, and the former used me while the latter viewed me more like an experiment."

"And if they were still alive, I'd turn them both into catalytic converters and then use the rest of them for spare parts." Ratchet paused and smirked. "Or I would if we didn't already use clean energy."

Wheeljack tried to smile at his friend's attempt at levity, but his dark mood didn't abate. "If you hadn't come along shortly after the second one and picked up my metaphorical pieces, you'd be using _me_ for spare parts instead."

"Unfortunately, I believe you." Ratchet's attention turned to the window suddenly. "Sideswipe again? Now what has he done to himself?" He sighed. "Okay, 'Jack. We'll begin prepping at exactly 0800 hours Earth time."

"Thanks." Wheeljack chuckled as Ratchet stood and made his way around his desk. "Oh, but I do have one unrelated question."

Ratchet paused just shy of the door. "What's that?"

"Just exactly when are you finally going to notice that Sides has a massive crush on you? He manages to get himself brought in here almost every orn, you know."

"What?" Ratchet stared at him. "Don't be stupid! Sides is just pulling double duty as an idiot and a prankster while Sunny is away."

Wheeljack snickered. "Sure, sure. Convenient excuse. But how does he act around you when you're working on him? Or did you notice that he won't let anyone but you fix him?"

Ratchet sputtered for a moment, then hit the door controls. "Oh, please. I'm the last mech in the base Sides would have a crush on."

Watching his friend's retreating back, Wheeljack decided one heavy-handed matchmaking attempt deserved another. After all, he and Bluestreak had discussed Sides' crush many times and had decided he really would do anything for Ratchet. "I'm not the only one who deserves happiness," he whispered to the now-absent medic. "And this is best done while Sunny is away."

oOoOo

Sunstreaker knelt behind a snow bank and sighed. The entire landscape was obscured by a blizzard, and the cold threatened to stiffen his joints and fuel lines. "Winter comes early to the U.S.S.R.," he muttered.

Smokescreen chuckled as he joined him. "It could be worse. We could be in Siberia."

Snorting, Sunstreaker stared at the landscape, or lack thereof: endless fields of snow, snow drifts, snow banks, and snowflakes. Chase had scouted ahead, looking for their pre-arranged contact point, and all Sunstreaker wished for was that odd strip of desert near the Ark. Heat, sun, and 'Cons to beat up. "Prowl outdid himself this time. This is the worst punishment he's ever dreamed up."

"And you're surprised?" Smokescreen shook his head. "Prowl thinks of Bluestreak like a _sparkling._ You totally trampled his offspring."

Sunstreaker sighed again and turned, leaning his back against the snow bank. "Yeah, well, it'll take half a vorn to fix my paint and unthaw my chassis."

"Poor you." Smokescreen smiled, taking the sting from his words. "Really, though. The next time you decide to flirt with me, warn me if you've become a genitor. I don't cherish the thought of getting shot by an angry, jilted carrier."

Sunstreaker allowed himself to slide down the bank and sit. "I wasn't thinking, really. Shocked, in denial, and even panicky, but not really thinking. All I knew was that I wasn't ready to be a genitor, and you were sitting there on that couch looking so hot."

"Well, you know I can't help it." Smokescreen laughed, clearly being factious, then sobered when Sunstreaker didn't even grin. "Look, I get that. I'm not that much older than you, maybe a vorn at most, and I know I feel too young to have a sparkling. I'm not ready for that responsibility, and having a family isn't my current dream or focus." He turned his gaze upon the field, although the blizzard obscured any sign of Chase. "But Blue's got to feel the same way."

"He's roughly sixty orns along now." Sunstreaker clenched his fists. "I'm only getting vague impressions and feelings from Sides, so I have no idea what's going on back at base. But despite everything, I'm finding myself wondering what the sparkling's design and specs ended up looking like."

Smokescreen knelt by him. "Hey, in the end, I've got no complaints here. You're slaggin' good at 'facing, and we've had a great time together, even if we have exasperated Chase. But when we get back to the _Ark_, you've got to face the fact you're a genitor. I've run away from responsibilities before, so I empathize with you, but this is not something you can outrun. Your sparkling will be raised in the same base as you. Do you really want Blue to keep hating you? Do you want your sparkling to hate you?"

Sunstreaker stared at his arms, which he'd propped on his bent knees. He didn't want to admit Smokescreen was right, but the facts had been slowly sinking in during his mission. And most of all, he knew the answer to Smokescreen's questions, and it was 'no.' "How do I even begin?" he asked, not really expecting a reply even though he needed to figure out his course of action soon. Provided the blizzard abated, they were due to depart for the U.S. in six joors, and to Sunstreaker's relief, they were returning from their mission earlier than they'd feared.

"Back at the beginning." Smokescreen smiled and stood. "You were friends first, right? Why can't you become friends again?"

Sunstreaker found he didn't have an answer for that question.

oOoOo

The soft buzz of his door comm. link announced a visitor, and Wheeljack sat up from his berth, trying to refocus his systems. He'd nearly been in recharge. "Come in."

Bluestreak slipped into the cabin and gave him a small smile. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"I didn't realize Beachcomber would be gone tonight." Wheeljack pressed the controls on his berth and waited while it extended. "Here we go." He patted the spot beside him.

Bluestreak jumped onto the berth, much like a sparkling. "He isn't! I just wanted to be with you." He wrapped his arms around him and kissed one vocal indicator.

Wheeljack suppressed a shiver and hugged him. He really was sweet. "Okay, then." He lay back down, pulling Blue with him. "Just don't go all sexy on me again. We need to be good little mechs."

Laughing, Bluestreak kissed his forehead then cuddled up against him, shifting a bit until his doorwings were settled. "If you insist. But as soon as the sparkling separates, I'm going to 'face you senseless."

"Why, you little . . .!" Wheeljack had to laugh, but his core temperature had also jumped two degrees. His processor supplied him with a whole series of sensual images: Bluestreak writhing under him, moaning; Bluestreak atop him again, grinning at him in a predatory fashion; hands stroking doorwings and winglets, eliciting shudders. "Oh, you are so gonna pay for that later." He wiggled his fingers into the transformation seam in Bluestreak's hip and tickled him.

Bluestreak squirmed and laughed again, batting his hand away. "Hey, you're the one holding out, not me."

"We'll be talking about all that during our date," Wheeljack said, his tone light even though he was serious.

Bluestreak grinned and nodded. "Okay." He curled up against him again, resting his head on his shoulder.

Wrapping one arm around his waist, Wheeljack held him close. "Speaking of helpless flirts, I saw Sides coming in with injuries earlier."

"Oh, yeah. We ran into some 'Cons during our patrol, and he made me stay back so I wouldn't risk getting hurt." Bluestreak shrugged. "And then instead of having his leg looked at, he insisted we go to the firing range for some target practice. It just got crazy in there."

Wheeljack shook his head. "He probably did it just to end up under Ratchet's 'loving care.'"

Bluestreak laughed. "Probably. I should go check on him in the morning."

"Oh, Ratchet'll have him fixed by then." Wheeljack tried to hide his sudden discomfort, but he had to keep Bluestreak away from medbay until his surgery was over. "He should be released later tonight."

Bluestreak looked thoughtful. "I wonder if there's anything we can do to help them get together."

"I made a jab at Ratchet earlier," Wheeljack replied, snickering. "I felt like I had to point out the obvious. When it has to do with something other than work or other people's business, Ratchet can be kinda clueless."

"Really? How did he respond?"

"He didn't believe me." Wheeljack began stroking Bluestreak's back in between his doorwings. "I think he's in denial right now, but he never holds out for too long. Sides will probably have to make the first move, though. Ratchet's just stubborn."

Bluestreak snuggled closer, clearly growing tired. "Umm. Well, Sides is even more stubborn. If he thinks he has the tiniest hope, he won't give up."

"Then maybe we just need to give them a little push." Wheeljack gazed at Bluestreak, who was falling into recharge. He looked so peaceful. So beautiful. Wheeljack reached out and rubbed his check, and Bluestreak kissed his palm before going offline.

_I know I'm glad Ratchet gave me a 'little push,'_ Wheeljack admitted to himself, then followed Bluestreak into recharge.

oOoOo

Staring at the datapad that held the design for his face, Wheeljack felt his tank's contents bubbling in nervousness. He had reported to medbay a breem early in order to review the specs one more time, and Ratchet and Hoist were busy setting up the necessary tools. Ratchet had been sure to clear the bay of all patients, since no one was currently seriously injured, and Wheeljack appreciated his thoughtfulness. Unfortunately, it didn't make him any less scared.

The design itself was simple, something Ratchet could do practically by rote, but Wheeljack knew perfectly well that the specs had never been the issue. It had always been the integration of the alloys. No 'bot ever had his protoform alloys completely removed, and like everyone else, Wheeljack's upgrades into a youngling and an adult body had retained major systems and key parts. The pliable protoform alloys melded with the new parts, and the 'bot's CNA was transferred and integrated into the new body, giving everyone a mechanical equivalent to a genetic code and fingerprint. In Wheeljack's case, this had become a curse.

He sighed and set down the datapad. A working jaw would be nice. A full range of motion for his mouth, the capacity to easily drink energon like a normal 'bot. As it stood now, he could only drink energon through his mouth if he used a tube, and he could barely extend his glossa past his lips. In fact, he could barely be said to have lips, and his cheeks were crumpled inward to the point his jaw was locked in place. He didn't need to be able to move his jaw in order to speak, given the purely electronic nature of vocal processors, but other 'bots had been uncomfortable with the fact his face didn't move when he spoke. As a result, his creators had given him vocal indicators and passed it off as a revolutionary design idea.

Wheeljack sighed again, saddened by the old memories.

"You ready?" came a quiet voice.

Wheeljack glanced up at Ratchet and nodded. "If this actually works, leave my vocal indicators intact. I'm going to keep wearing the blast mask to _protect_ my face, and I don't want anyone except you, Hoist, and Prowl to ever know there was a problem in the first place." He didn't want to get his hopes up, but given how much he loved Bluestreak, he prayed to Primus the surgery would be a success.

"Of course," Ratchet replied with a small smile. "Let's get started."

Wheeljack stood and handed over the datapad, then made his way to the surgery table. He tried to relax on the berth, promising himself it would all be finished soon, one way or another. "Okay, let's get this over with." He triggered his blast mask open and waited for Hoist's show of disgust.

Hoist cringed. "I see. It's been a long time since I've seen a CNA degradation this serious."

"_Hoist_." Ratchet glared at him, then he locked Wheeljack's mask open.

"I didn't mean it that way." Hoist smiled at Wheeljack, who suddenly wished he was already unconscious. "I just mean it's rare. At least yours doesn't impair your functionality, though. The last 'bot I did this type of reconstructive surgery on had degradation in her legs and couldn't walk on her own." He paused and frowned. "I also remember that her creators had considered scrapping her."

Wheeljack flinched. His creators hadn't been that brutal, but to say they were disappointed would have been an understatement.

Ratchet sighed, his patience obviously growing thin. "Let's start." He patted Wheeljack's shoulder. "Time for you to go into stasis lock."

"Okay." Wheeljack steeled himself, only to hear the medbay doors open. A pulse of horror surged through his spark. "Who is that?"

"Sorry to bother you but is Sides still — " Bluestreak halted just inside the door, his gaze falling upon Wheeljack. His horrified gasp filled the room. "'Jack?"

Wheeljack bolted upright and stared at Bluestreak, who was gaping at him. Feeling sure his spark would extinguish, Wheeljack held out one hand to him, then let it fall. It was over. All over. He felt the urge to bolt, but Ratchet knew him too well.

"Good night," the medic said, opening his access panel.

"No — " Wheeljack fell into forced stasis lock, the image of Bluestreak's shock imprinted on his memory banks.

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you to the following for reviews: The Plushi, Sergeant Duck, Apocrypha Blessing, Hellen, Shirox, chimeronette, Sslaxx, and PrancingTiger86._


	7. What is Love?

_**Chapter Seven: What is Love?**_

Bluestreak stared at Wheeljack's unconscious form, his thoughts racing. The damage to his face was extreme. "What happened? Ratchet tell me what's going on why are his cheeks caved in and why is his nose half-missing and oh Primus are these old wounds because they don't look new. Is this why he wears the mask and never retracts it?"

Turning to him with a frown, Ratchet seemed unusually grim. "Yes, this is exactly why he wears the mask. But I'm going to mix protoform-grade alloys with Earth alloys, which should make the metal strong enough to resist the degradation."

"Degradation?" Bluestreak stared at the unconscious Wheeljack, unable to contain his horror at the sight of the deformities. It clashed with the mental image that had formed in his mind, and it scared him. And most of all, it made him wonder why Wheeljack had never talked to him about it. Did he not trust him? "What happened?" He could feel his emotional subroutines fluctuating, overcompensating, and affecting his reactions, but he couldn't stop them. Coolant pooled in his optics.

Hoist and Ratchet traded looks, then Ratchet continued. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but I don't want you to get hysterical on me, either." He sighed. "It's a rare defect caused when a gestated sparkling is transferred into a protoform that has less than 98.56 percent tensile strength anywhere in its frame." He smiled sadly. "It's why 'Jack's been working triple time to make sure your sparkling's protoform is perfect."

Bluestreak put one hand on his chest, over the spot where his sparkling grew. "He worked that hard to make sure my sparkling wouldn't be in danger of getting his same deformity. He-he . . ." Suddenly it all made sense: why they had never kissed, why Wheeljack was moving so slowly with him, why they'd never even been on a date — a million tiny details. One tear escaped, racing down his cheek, and he tried to rein in his unbalanced programming. He stared at Wheeljack momentarily, then glanced back at Ratchet. "Why didn't he tell me?" He could feel the words coming, but he couldn't stop them. "I was walking around thinking he wasn't attracted to me after all or that he'd just decided to only be my friend or that there was something wrong with me and I'd totally dismissed all those rumors that his face was damaged but it really was and-and-and we've been together sort of for almost sixty orns now and he never even hinted that there was an issue!"

Walking over to him, Ratchet gripped him by the upper arms. "Listen to me, Bluestreak. The issue of his face is one that Wheeljack finds nearly impossible to discuss. Until today, the only two mechs on Earth to know about it were Prowl and me." He paused, frowning. "Look, it is not my place to say this, but as 'Jack's best friend, I'm going to say it anyway: for the longest time, 'Jack has refused to even be in a relationship because of the reaction everyone has to his face. I'm going to attempt to fix it, but if I fail and you dump him, you better slaggin' well be nice about it!" Ratchet looked like he wanted to say more, but he grew silent and released him. "Now get out of my medbay. I have a surgery to do."

Bluestreak nodded blankly, his emotions too mixed to even formulate a reply, and ran from the room.

oOoOo

Wheeljack slowly became aware of his systems rebooting. _What?_ he thought, confused. _Oh. Right. The surgery. And Bluestreak saw!_ With a surge of trepidation, he onlined his optics and glanced around the room. No Bluestreak. No one at all. Wheeljack shuddered faintly and suppressed his worry over Bluestreak for the time being. It was leading him toward panic, and he couldn't afford to panic just as he was coming out of stasis lock.

Ratchet had apparently moved him to ICU for recovery, as was evident from the bare grey walls instead of the usual orangey-gold ones. Gathering his courage, he reached up and touched his face. His cheeks were rounded and his nose present, but they weren't smooth to the touch. _I refuse to get my hopes up,_ he told himself sternly. _It can take up to three orns for the deformity to manifest._

This thought firmly in mind, Wheeljack climbed off the berth, finding himself a bit stiff. Then, drawing a deep drought of air through his intakes, he walked over to the mirror, which was mounted on the wall over a small shelf of waxes, lubricants, and other personal-care products. Steeling himself, he scrutinized the 'damage.' His nose was fully formed, although it felt like fine sandpaper to the touch, and his lower faceplates matched his upper ones, giving him a nice oval face. To his relief, he looked basically _normal._ This was the best result he'd seen since the radical surgery his creators had agreed to when he was a vorn old.

"I don't look like a freak," Wheeljack whispered to himself, caught in a wave of disbelief. Staring into the mirror for several kliks, he tried to convince himself he wasn't dreaming. He ran his fingertips over his cheeks and nose repeatedly, overwhelmed. He turned his head from side to side, finding even his profile sufficient, and then he carefully opened his mouth as far as it would go. To his shock, it worked perfectly. No one would ever grimace at his appearance again, provided that the surgery took this time. At that thought, Wheeljack's spark surged in anxiety.

"Satisfied?" asked a voice.

Wheeljack jumped and whirled to face Ratchet. "Would you stop sneaking up on me?" He paused as he realized he'd automatically moved his mouth as he spoke.

Ratchet grinned. "Ah. I see you noticed the adjustment to your speech programming. When you have your blast mask open, you will automatically move your mouth in synch with your words, just like everyone else. When the mask is closed, your jaw will lock in place and your vocal indicators will flash."

"That's sensible." Wheeljack turned to look into the mirror again. "Still, we have to wait and see if it takes." He cringed, depressed by the thought he could look this normal only to lose it all. "Sometimes the deformities have returned in as little as three breems, whereas other times a full three orns have passed before — "

"I know," Ratchet interrupted. "But it's a good sign that it's held so well for six joors."

Reaching up to touch his face again, Wheeljack found himself unable to reply. He hated getting his hopes up. However, there was more of a problem than that. "And Bluestreak?" he finally managed to whisper.

"Asked me some questions before I tossed him out." Ratchet shrugged. "He came in to check on you during his break, although I told him how long I'd keep you out. You should expect him soon."

Wheeljack felt anxious again. "Oh." _He still saw. He was shocked, probably repulsed._

"For your information, he didn't run away screaming," Ratchet said, crossing his arms. "And he seemed more upset by the fact you hadn't shown him before."

A sinking feeling unsettled the contents of his tank. "Upset?" Wheeljack grimaced, disturbed by the implications.

Ratchet raised one optic ridge. "Did I not advise you to just trust him? Even if he'd dumped you, you're the type to not want this to drag out if the end result will be negative."

Wheeljack had to admit defeat on that count. "I guess you're right. Am I discharged?"

"Only on the condition that you take it easy for another twelve joors." Ratchet exited the room.

Wheeljack started to follow him, only to see Bluestreak enter medbay. Wheeljack halted abruptly, afraid to see him, and felt the irrational urge to trigger his blast mask closed again.

Meeting his gaze, Bluestreak crossed the room as though no one else were present. He was frowning and walking with such a sense of determination that Wheeljack backed into the ICU room again. Bluestreak swooped in after him, the door hissing shut behind him.

"You should have told me," Bluestreak said bluntly.

Wheeljack cringed. "Probably. But until I explain it all to you, you can't understand what it means to me or why I felt the need to wait until after the surgery to — "

"Then talk to me, slaggit!" Bluestreak clenched both fists, clearly fighting the influence of the Gestation Protection program. "You listen to me talk all the time. Endlessly. Patiently. You don't even seem to care what I'm talking about: the 'Cons' latest attack, Sides' latest prank, some Earth music Jazz found, my past, my opinion on your inventions, or whatever. It drives most everyone else insane, but you accepted me just as I am. Why didn't you . . ." He paused, looking shaken. "Why didn't you trust me to do the same?"

Feeling spark-crushed, Wheeljack stepped forward and hugged him. "I'm so sorry. It's just that . . ." He hesitated, shuddering. "I fell in love twice before, and both times I ultimately took incredible abuse thanks to my face. I didn't think I could go through that a third time, so I wanted to have the surgery done first."

"I _was_ shocked." Bluestreak leaned back to meet his gaze, but he also wrapped his arms around his waist. "I won't pretend that I wasn't. But mostly I was hurt because you didn't trust me enough to tell me about it. Do you think I'm shallow?"

"No," Wheeljack replied softly. "But I also know how hideous I looked."

Reaching up with one hand, Bluestreak traced his fingers over Wheeljack's cheeks. "What about my opinion? You said that I'm not some object for 'facing and that love looks past trivial flaws. Is the same not true for you?" He shook his head, frowning. "Are my feelings so meaningless that I'm not allowed to decide for myself how and why I love you? And if I do love you, shouldn't that love be based on who you are and not your pretty face?"

"Blue . . ." Wheeljack was trapped, and he knew it. If the ideal love he imagined was real, then Bluestreak was right and he had gravely erred. But when past experiences left wounds that stripped away all idealism, wasn't his caution understandable? "My doubts had nothing to do with you as a person or with your ability to love. My fear came from past experiences: relationships that became twisted and unhealthy based on my physical flaw."

Pulling away, Bluestreak gave him a sad smile. "I know better than most the power of ghosts from the past. You safeguard me from mine. Will you allow me to do the same for you? Or were you lying when you said love carries burdens equally?"

Ashamed, Wheeljack struggled to find words. "I'll tell you the stories, if you'll forgive me enough to listen."

"Of course." Bluestreak turned toward the door. "I have to return to my shift now, but I'll come by your quarters this evening."

Wheeljack nodded and watched Bluestreak's retreating back. He knew, then, that Ratchet had been correct. "I should have shown you ahead of time," he whispered to the now-absent Bluestreak. Then again, if the surgery didn't take, Wheeljack knew his face would become completely deformed again. He might yet have to confront whether Bluestreak could love him even if he was hideous-looking.

It was not a comforting thought.

oOoOo

Staring out over the ocean, Sunstreaker sighed in relief as the U.S. battleship approached San Francisco, seeing its skyscrapers breaking the monotony of the blue waters. "Can't say I've ever been so glad to see a human city."

Smokescreen joined him at the deck's edge and grinned. "Excited to be covered in rain and mud instead of snow and ice?"

"Very funny." Sunstreaker shook his head, but as annoying as the weather was, it was the least of his concerns. Although he didn't want to be bonded and wasn't ready to be a genitor, he knew he couldn't leave things between Bluestreak and him in such a mess. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted, really, but having his sparkling growing up hating him wasn't on the list.

Chase joined them at the rail and raised one optic ridge at Sunstreaker. "You think Blue's going to talk to you?"

"Sure." Sunstreaker shrugged, his usual confidence returning. "And if not, I can bring him around."

Chase snorted. "Must be nice to be that easily arrogant."

"When you have it, you have it," Sunstreaker replied, unfazed.

Smokescreen snorted. "Still, though. It's going to look weird to see you running around base with a sparkling."

Sunstreaker shuddered at the mental image. "Hey, I'm not sure I'm going that far." He paused, realizing all his feelings were conflicted. "I don't know where I'm going because I don't know what's going on."

"Fair enough." Smokescreen flicked his doorwings at him. "But just so you know, my berth is open anytime."

Groaning, Chase turned and walked away from them.

"I'll remember that." Sunstreaker grinned at him.

Smokescreen, however, was suddenly focused on the sky. "You see that?"

Sunstreaker followed his line-of-sight, zooming in his optics on the jets passing over them. "Those ugly paint jobs look pretty familiar."

"Wonder where they're off to in such a hurry," Smokescreen said.

Refocusing his optics, Sunstreaker frowned at him. "I don't know, but I don't like it. We better report it, just in case."

Smokescreen nodded and triggered his comm. link, and as he radioed base, Sunstreaker found himself ill-at-ease.

"Hurry up and reach the dock," he muttered, wishing the human ship traveled faster. He needed to be on land, in control of his own traveling. Where there were 'Cons, there was always trouble.

oOoOo

Pacing in his quarters, Wheeljack tried to calm his tingling circuits, but he was beyond nervous. He was terrified. Bluestreak was due to arrive any klik, and Wheeljack wasn't entirely sure he knew how to fix the problem he'd created. On one hand, he genuinely believed no one could look past a face as ugly as his had been. After all, attraction did play a role in love. On the other hand, love was more than attraction. What was worse, tiny creases like spider webs were beginning to form on his cheeks, making Wheeljack close his blast mask so he didn't have to watch the deformities bleed through.

Every spring and cable in his body was knotted by the time his door chime rang. "Come in," he called, having left the door unlocked.

Bluestreak stepped through the door as it hissed open and paused, his gaze falling on Wheeljack's closed blast mask. "I see you have the mask back in place but you're not in your lab and your face really does look fine I mean you're quite handsome."

Wheeljack waited for the door to cycle shut again before he spoke. "Thank you. But I should warn you that the surgery might not take." It didn't bode well that Bluestreak was rambling again.

"I know Ratchet told me." Bluestreak paused in the middle of the room.

"Please." Wheeljack gestured to the berth, which also served as his couch. "Sit down. I really do need to explain all of this to you."

Crossing the room, Bluestreak sat and peered up at him. "Ratchet explained all the stuff about protoform metals and alloy tensile strength and degradations."

Wheeljack settled beside him, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He found himself staring at the floor, unable to look up. "My creators were horrified," he said bluntly, seeing no reason to soften the truth. "They were embarrassed. They made me the mask, which was redesigned after every reconstructive surgery I had. The surgeries never totally fixed the problem, and throughout my sparklinghood, my creators instilled in me a deep fear of revealing my face. They let it be known to me that it was a source of shame." For a moment, his processor presented him with a memory of their narrowed blue optics and distinct frowns.

"That's sick!" Bluestreak slipped an arm around his waist, hugging him. "I understand that would leave you with permanent scars, and I mean the internal kind, like I have. But I promise I'm not like them."

Wheeljack nodded absently. "I know. But unfortunately it doesn't end there." He sighed through his intakes. "Needless to say, my refusal to remove my blast mask kept me from dating seriously. Fortunately, I wasn't interested in anything long-term at the time, anyway. I liked dating all sorts of 'bots and debating stuff with them. Still, it got frustrating because I'd never get past the third or fourth date because the 'bot would get impatient with the fact we weren't kissing. When I was younger, I was too afraid to reveal the truth even if it cost me a break up, so my relationships always ended at that stage."

Grimacing, Bluestreak hugged him tighter. "I'm sorry. I ended up pressuring you over the same thing." He leaned his forehead against Wheeljack's shoulder. "I just assumed the problem was with me, but I must have reminded you of all those other 'bots."

Wheeljack shook his head. "No, you were ultimately different because you _did_ assume it was you instead of accusing me of being weird." He gathered his nerve and continued. "Finally, when I went to the Academy I ended up spending all my time around engineers and medics. Given my advanced knowledge of social gender versus nonsexual reproduction, I ended up with no preferences in my dating partners except — " He snorted, glancing at Bluestreak momentarily. " — doorwings. So when one of the upperclassmen expressed keen interest in me, one with winglets I might add, I decided to test my luck. I showed him my face on the third date when he indicated he wanted to kiss me."

"What happened?" Bluestreak had grown tense beside him, as though empathetically sharing his nervousness.

Wheeljack smiled sadly behind his mask. "Sidewinder was disgusted. He did something unexpected, though. He didn't dump me. He said he liked me for my intelligence and ingenuity, not my looks. I was stunned senseless. I never expected anyone to overcome my appearance, so I fell for him really hard." He snorted, the memory of the black and crimson mech causing him more pain than he expected. "I made the same mistake as you did." He met Bluestreak's gaze. "Instead of waiting, I interfaced and spark-merged with him early in our relationship, and after a stellar cycle, it seemed like that was the only thing our relationship was really about." He looked away, staring at the floor again. "He became callous. Actually, he slowly turned into a total slaggin' glitch, but he expected me to be too desperate to break it off."

Bluestreak shuddered. "'Jack . . . oh, Primus, I'm so sorry."

"I finally dumped him. His last words to me were 'You don't really think anyone else would actually have you, do you?'" Wheeljack paused as the agony of the memory ripped through his tanks. After several deep intakes of air, he continued. "I didn't date again for a vorn. I poured myself into my work and built a massive clientele for would-be creators and genitors. I became Iacon's most well-known protoform builder, and that's how I drew the attention of a medic named Moonwalker. Her interests lay in medical research, so after a single deep discussion of sparkling designs and concerns, we ended up dating."

"I'm afraid to ask," Bluestreak whispered. He took one of Wheeljack's hands and squeezed it, although he left his other arm around his waist.

Wheeljack turned his stare upon their entwined fingers. "She also flinched when she saw my face, but she was otherwise very professional about it. Too professional."

"Too professional?" Bluestreak echoed.

"Moonwalker worked on all sorts of methods of surgery for me." He paused as the smiling face of the indigo and grey femme arose in his memory banks. "In fact, Ratchet used a modified and upgraded version of one of her methods this time." He grimaced beneath his mask. "However, after two stellar cycles, I realized something was deeply wrong. Even after the surgeries failed, she clearly enjoyed my company and still interfaced with me, but when I mentioned spark bonding, she always hastily changed the topic."

"She was against committed relationships?"

Wheeljack snorted again. "She entered one about a stellar cycle after we broke up." He slumped. "No, what I realized was that she saw me as a source of fascination instead of someone to love. More like an odd obsession, maybe." He halted abruptly, unsure if he should reveal the final piece of his past. He wanted to show Bluestreak that he trusted him, but he'd also never revealed the whole truth to anyone, even Ratchet. He buried his face in his hands.

"'Jack?" Bluestreak wrapped both arms around him and embraced him tightly. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it anymore. I can understand why you didn't show me, but I promise I'm not like Sidewinder or Moonwalker. I mean, I do cherish your intelligence and ingenuity, and I do find you fascinating. But there is more to you than that, and more to you than a pretty face, too."

Wheeljack dropped his hands and triggered his blast mask open so Bluestreak could see him smile, although he was still afraid Bluestreak would cringe at the sight of the spider web-like lines running through his cheeks. "Thank you," he said softly. "However, there is one more piece to this puzzle, and it's something I've never told anyone. If I tell you, you must promise to keep it to yourself."

Bluestreak nodded, showing no signs of having noticed the lines in Wheeljack's face. "Of course. I promise."

Steeling himself, Wheeljack continued. "I was foolish enough to spark-merge with Moonwalker despite not being bonded, and we accidentally created a sparkling."

"What?" Bluestreak's gasp was quiet but deeply shocked. "You're a genitor?"

For a moment, Wheeljack felt as though tiny particles of shrapnel were racing through his energon lines, stinging him until his tank lurched. "Yes. I was always careful to keep my SMER in pristine condition, so I don't know what went wrong. However, because she was the carrier and we weren't bonded, when we broke up, she retained all legal rights to the sparkling. Since our species _is_ nonsexual, Iaconian law always held that in the case of a sparkling who is gestated, the carrier has full rights should an unbonded relationship dissolve."

Bluestreak stared at him in blank horror. "Praxus didn't do it that way. You mean — you mean you weren't allowed to be a part of your sparkling's life?"

"No." Wheeljack buried his face in his hands again and realized his frame shook. He'd never imagined that saying the words would hurt so much, especially after so many vorns. "Moonracer doesn't even know I was the one who helped spark her. When I pushed for visitation rights, Moonwalker filed a legal sanction against me that prohibited me from seeking contact with Moonracer or ever telling her the truth."

"Moonracer?" Bluestreak whispered. "You helped spark Moonracer? Primus! She trained me when I joined the Autobots. She's the reason I became a sharpshooter."

Wheeljack shuddered and didn't look up. "It nauseates me to even think about it. The one and only thing I ever did for Moonracer was design her protoform." He fought back the coolant that threatened to pool in his optics. "I can only hope Sunstreaker won't be such a fool that he'll throw away the one thing I always wanted most."

Heavy silence met those words, then Bluestreak was pushing him down onto the berth. Wheeljack didn't resist, letting his back rest against the warm metal. At that moment, he hurt too much to even feel real.

"I don't know," Bluestreak said, lying on top of him. "Sunny might be that stupid." He ran his fingertips over Wheeljack's nose and cheeks. "But Sunny's not like you. And I'm not like Sidewinder or Moonwalker." He leaned down and kissed his nose. "You aren't some kinda experiment to me or some pity case. I fell in love with you for who you are, and all I can promise you is that I'll love you for just that: who you are." He laid one palm against his cheek. "I don't care if you're not perfect. I'm not perfect, either." He kissed his lips softly. "You don't have to be beautiful and perfect for me to love you, and that's not going to change even if the deformities return."

Wheeljack felt so astonished he couldn't bring himself to believe it was true, not after being so deeply hurt. "You love me for . . .?" In his surprise, he couldn't formulate a reply.

"Why are you so shocked? You're the one who's been telling me all along that I should choose someone who loves me just for me and that I'm not just some interfacing object." Bluestreak smiled, then gave him another quick kiss. "Did you really think the same wasn't true for you?"

_In fact, I believed just that._ Struck by the irony, Wheeljack dodged the question by reaching up and cupping Bluestreak's face in his hands. "On the subject of 'interfacing objects,' do you understand now why I believe couples should wait until they're bonded to interface, much less spark-merge?"

Bluestreak nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can. And I can't say my hastiness has worked out too well for me, either. If you hadn't offered to be my 'date' at Silverwind's Sparkling Unveiling ceremony, I'd be standing by myself, and I'm probably going to end up raising her alone."

"Are you?" Wheeljack whispered, but afraid of moving too quickly, he didn't press further. Letting himself take the chance of being loved, he relaxed under Bluestreak and took him at his word. Then he pulled Bluestreak down to meet his lips, and Bluestreak immediately took over, nibbling at Wheeljack's lower lip until he moaned, allowing Bluestreak to slip his glossa into his mouth.

Wheeljack reached up and caressed Bluestreak's doorwings, loving the feel of them quivering at his touch, and couldn't deny he wanted to give Bluestreak pleasure, to overload him, to feel their systems synch and their thoughts flow together. But he'd be damned if he screwed up another relationship through recklessness. He'd done enough damage by making Bluestreak feel that he didn't trust him.

Shifting atop him, Bluestreak ran one hand down his chassis, caressing his side, sliding his fingers into a sensitive transformation seam in his hip, stimulating his circuits and drawing another moan from him. "We need to slow down," Wheeljack said, breaking the kiss and capturing his hand. "With your Gestation Protection program raging out of control, we might, ah . . ."

"End up with me 'facing you senseless? Because you know I want to." Bluestreak grinned at him.

Wheeljack had to laugh. "I'm gonna start taking count of the number of provocative things you say and do and totally take revenge on you later."

"In that case," Bluestreak began, but before he could say anything further, the red alert alarm blared to life, making both mechs jump.

"What the slag?" Bluestreak glared at the blinking red light over Wheeljack's door.

"I don't know, but I've got a bad feeling." Wheeljack helped Bluestreak to climb off the berth, and they both stood, holding hands momentarily.

The base comm. activated. "All personnel to battle stations!" Red Alert's voice filtered into the room. "Decepticon attack!"

Wheeljack glanced at Bluestreak. "Stay inside the base. That's an order!" It was awkward giving his date orders, but there was no way around it. The sparkling had to be protected.

"I will," Bluestreak replied. "No way would Prowl let me on battle duty."

Wheeljack nodded and raced from the room, accessing his mental inventory of new weapons and bombs. Something about the attack, something totally inexplicable, made him nervous. He wanted the 'Cons defeated and headed back to the _Nemesis_ immediately.

* * *

_Postscript: You guys really are the best, I swear. Thank you to the following for your reviews: Carmilla DeWinter, Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma, Sergeant Duck, Misao-CG, dreamkitty26, BiloxiBlueberry, PrancingTiger86, D. Mischief, Sslaxx, Hellen, Helana Dreath, and Shirox._


	8. Nasty Surprises

_**Chapter 8: Nasty Surprises**_

After first running back to his lab to subspace a few bombs, Wheeljack transformed and followed Jazz and Prowl out of the _Ark_. Even though he'd promised Ratchet to take it easy for 12 joors, Wheeljack wasn't going to sit by idly while his home was under attack. He'd at least blow up a few 'Cons before reporting to medbay for medical duties.

As soon as he reached the _Ark_'s main entrance, Wheeljack returned to root mode, along with Prowl and Jazz, and surveyed the battlefield. Optimus Prime, Ironhide, and Sideswipe were already fighting at the front. Six Seekers zoomed overhead, engaging the Aerialbots.

"Return them immediately!" Megatron landed in front of Optimus and fired his fusion cannon at point blank range. Ironhide shoved Optimus aside and took a hit in the arm.

"Never," Optimus replied, hoisting Ironhide to his feet with one hand and firing back with the other. "You'd only use it for destruction."

"Them?" Wheeljack asked, taking position with Prowl behind a boulder. Jazz slinked off, using the boulders to work his way behind the 'Cons, with Mirage and Bumblebee following him.

Prowl pulled his rifle from subspace. "This morning, while you were still in surgery, Jazz led a raid on a temporary 'Con base and stole Megatron's latest toy and its design specs." He frowned at Wheeljack. "Perceptor explained the specifics, but I admit I didn't follow well. The device apparently emits a kind of reverse EMP pulse."

Ravage dashed in their direction, and Prowl paused, firing at the Cassetticon and hitting him with corrosive acid. Wheeljack took the opportunity to assure himself that no Autobots were too close to Soundwave, then tossed a bomb his direction. The concussion blast knocked Soundwave, Reflector, Rumble, and Frenzy to the ground, where they lay unmoving.

"Nicely done," Prowl said, gazing across the battlefield and activating the comm. in his arm. ::Brawn, move all the minibots into position by the Constructicons and make sure they don't form Devastator.::

::Acknowledged,:: came the reply.

Wheeljack was trying to make sense of Prowl's explanation. "A reverse EMP?"

Shrugging, Prowl took aim at Laserbeak, who was swooping overhead. "If I understood Perceptor's techno-speak correctly, it drains and collects all the energy from electronic devices instead of just shutting them down. Megatron tested it on Portland, and the entire city is still without power."

"What?" Wheeljack shook his head, both intrigued and horrified. "Okay, that's one nasty little invention."

Prowl stiffened and pointed to the east. "It's the Stunticons."

Looking in the direction Prowl indicated, Wheeljack frowned. "We're going to need the Dinobots to even the odds." He took aim with his shoulder cannon, and using Prowl's explanation as inspiration, fired an EMP shell at the approaching 'Cons. Motormaster took most of the hit and swerved to a stop.

::Prowl to Grimlock.:: The tactician sounded grim as he activated his comm. link again.

::Grimlock here.::

::Report to the _Ark_'s main entrance. There are some tasty 'Cons in need of crunching.::

Wheeljack had to smile at Prowl's choice of words.

::Me Grimlock think that sounds fun! We Dinobots come save little Autobots.::

Prowl closed the link and raised one optic ridge at Wheeljack. "The next time you decide to create some 'children,' please make them more intelligent and less belligerent."

"They aren't my children!" Wheeljack laughed, doubly amused that Prowl was gifting him with his dry humor. The laugh died abruptly, though, when he spied a red chevron across the field from them. With Prowl crouching beside him, the Datsun taking position across from them could only be — "Bluestreak!"

Prowl had apparently seen him as well. ::Prowl to Bluestreak. What are you doing on the battlefield? We told you no more fighting until your sparkling is separated.::

::I'm sorry, Father.:: Bluestreak glanced their direction, then continued to fire. ::I was watching the battle on Teletraan I's viewscreen and saw we are outnumbered and given how many mechs we have out on patrol I didn't see any other option but to fight anyway.::

::I ordered you to stay put!:: Wheeljack spoke into Prowl's link. The sight of Bluestreak on the battlefield had made him nearly hysterical with worry. ::Prowl's called out the Dinobots, okay, so just go back inside. You can't afford to put your sparkling in this kind of danger.::

::I concur,:: Prowl said.

Wheeljack could see Bluestreak cease firing, and with his rifle still raised in defense, start backing toward the _Ark_'s entrance. ::Yessir,:: Bluestreak replied. ::But as much as I hate to fight I also hate to be useless!::

::You're not — :: Wheeljack's words died in his vocalizer as Skywarp teleported in over Bluestreak's head. The Seeker's words were clear even from across the battlefield.

"Say hello to Primus for me, coward!" Skywarp opened fire.

To Wheeljack, it seemed like his processor had slowed to the point of recording everything in still frames: Skywarp's rays firing; Bluestreak trying to dive clear; Hound running forward to help but too far away . . .

. . . and then a golden-yellow flash as another mech jumped atop Bluestreak, taking the shot and protecting Bluestreak with his body.

Everything snapped back to normal, and Wheeljack vaulted over the boulder, running toward Bluestreak while Prowl fired upon Skywarp. The Seeker kicked in his thrusters and zoomed away, but Wheeljack's terror did not ease. At this point, a hard impact against Bluestreak's spark chamber could force premature separation of the sparkling.

"Blue!" He knelt by the two mechs, noticing the scorching marks on the second one's back. After a moment, Wheeljack realized who it was. "Sunstreaker?"

Ignoring Wheeljack, Sunstreaker raised his head and propped himself up, meeting Bluestreak's blatantly shocked gaze. "Hey, Blue. You okay?"

"Yeah." Bluestreak sounded mystified, but as far as Wheeljack could tell, he didn't have any injuries.

"Slaggit," Sunstreaker said, sitting up stiffly and frowning. "I leave for nearly sixty orns only to come back and find you making a target out of yourself! You _are_ still carrying, right? Are you nuts?"

Bluestreak sat up as well, frowning. "We're a bit outnumbered here you know."

"So what?" Sunstreaker stood and flexed his back cables. "Just because I wasn't ready to be a genitor doesn't mean I want our sparkling to get extinguished! Get back inside. I'll handle this." He turned, and when his gaze fell on Sideswipe, he rushed away. "Sides!"

Wheeljack watched him go, too stunned to react at first, and then extended his hand to Bluestreak. "Come on. I need to take you to medbay and scan your chest to be sure the sparkling really is okay."

Taking his hand, Bluestreak nodded and let himself be pulled to his feet. His gaze never left Sunstreaker, though.

_Surely not,_ Wheeljack thought to himself, leading Bluestreak inside. _He couldn't still have feelings for Sunny! Sunny brushed him off, hurt him, and cheated on him. One simple act of protection wouldn't be enough to erase all that pain, would it?_ He glanced at Bluestreak, whose wide optics revealed he was stupefied. _Then again,_ Wheeljack thought, _can I say I'm much better? I lied to Blue in omission and didn't trust him to accept me as I was. It's not like I didn't hurt him, too._

Disturbed by those thoughts, Wheeljack remained quiet during their entire trip to medbay.

oOoOo

_Four orns,_ Wheeljack thought, glancing over the rec room as he entered. Four orns since the 'Cons attacked, since the entire base had gone onto double or triple shifts, and since Sunstreaker and his team had returned. With the 'Cons using every trick in their repertoire to retrieve their 'reverse EMP' weapon, almost everyone was assigned to in-base posts or short-range patrol missions.

_And unfortunately Sunstreaker isn't on the one long-range team Prime assembled,_ Wheeljack mused, his gaze landing on Bluestreak, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe, who were sitting together in a corner. Jazz had walked up to them, and they were all laughing about something. Wheeljack crossed the room, headed for the energon dispenser. The fact that Bluestreak and Sunstreaker were talking again was bothersome enough, but when Smokescreen had volunteered for the small scouting team Hound was leading to Arizona, Wheeljack knew the rumors were true: Sunstreaker and Smokescreen's relationship had been short-lived.

After pouring himself a serving of energon, Wheeljack searched for a seat. He wasn't going to embarrass himself by approaching Bluestreak in public. He didn't want to seem dependent or pathetic, like the mech who just couldn't accept that he'd been cast off. Mirage was sitting in the opposite corner from Bluestreak, looking utterly despondent, and the minibots were crowded around a center table, trading news and jokes. No one was getting regular breaks, so the rec room was active and loud as everyone tried to release stress and catch up at the same time.

Wheeljack was concerned about Mirage, but he didn't seem approachable. To his relief, the doors opened, and Prowl stepped in the room. Wheeljack met his gaze and gave an empty table at the side of the room a pointed look. Prowl nodded. Reassured, Wheeljack took a seat, and Prowl joined him shortly.

"I'm sorry," Prowl said as he sat down. "I realize you and Ratchet have pulled twelve consecutive shifts, and — "

"There's no helping it." Wheeljack waved off his apology. "You know perfectly well that I can go sixty orns without recharge as long as I'm properly fueled, and we're getting an endless stream of patients thanks to the 'Cons."

Prowl nodded and glanced toward Bluestreak. "Yes, I know. But Bluestreak has pulled six straight shifts now, by his own request, since Beachcomber joined Hound and Smokescreen on their mission."

A wave of unease passed through Wheeljack. "But he's only about twenty orns away from separation! His body isn't up to that kind of strain."

"That's why I'm forcing him to take tonight off." Prowl met his gaze. "Jazz and I have no choice but to continue taking triple shifts, so with Beachcomber gone, Bluestreak won't rest unless you stay with him. I hereby order you off duty for third shift."

"Yes, sir." Wheeljack stared at energon he'd barely touched. With the base on high alert and everyone so busy, he hadn't gotten a single moment alone with Bluestreak for the entire four orns. However, he did know, thanks to the rumor mill, that Sunstreaker had sought out Bluestreak at every opportunity.

Prowl leaned forward. "Why are you so dispirited? Sunstreaker's return changes nothing. Bluestreak specifically asked me to release you from duty tonight."

Wheeljack's grip on his cube tightened brutally, and the container squealed in protest. Had it not occurred to Prowl that Bluestreak could have a very different reason for the request? Such as getting a private moment to break up with him?

"Are you really that threatened by Sunstreaker's presence?" Prowl asked.

Wheeljack didn't glance up. "I'm sure you heard all about it." He sighed. "You know about the surgery, you know that I didn't show Blue my face prior to the surgery, and you know Blue was really hurt by my apparent lack of trust."

"He was quite upset about that, yes."

Wheeljack flinched. A burst of laughter erupted from the corner where Bluestreak and the twins were talking to Jazz, and the sound made him feel disconnected and isolated. "In the end, Sunny and I both betrayed Bluestreak's trust," he whispered. "Just in different ways."

A long pause met these words, and Wheeljack looked up to find Prowl frowning.

"_Very_ different ways," Prowl finally replied. "I suspect you were motivated by past experiences that left you wounded, and I know you're logical enough to explain your reasons to Bluestreak. Sunstreaker was motivated by fear and selfishness. Neither one of you actually acted on a desire to be malicious. But Bluestreak can understand your wounds, and if he decides to forgive you, or even both of you, then who are you to question that forgiveness?"

Wheeljack felt caught between several kinds of shame. "I didn't mean to betray him at all. But if he forgives me, then — "

"Then he loves you." Prowl folded his arms on the tabletop. "Forgiveness can be simply an act of mercy, and sometimes it's purely self-mercy, so you don't have to feel angry anymore. But it can also be an act of love. Bluestreak told me that you said he wasn't some commodity to be used and discarded. Maybe I should tell you the same thing. Quit assuming that all you have to give is your professional genius and loyalty to the Autobot cause, and quit assuming that no one will accept the other things you have to offer. Bluestreak doesn't see you as someone convenient, someone to pass the time with, or someone who can simply save him from his loneliness. He loves you."

Jazz approached the table then, smiled at Prowl, and ran one hand down his shoulder and arm. "Hey, love."

Prowl reached up, squeezed his hand, and smiled. "Hello."

Jazz glanced at Wheeljack and grinned. "Hey, man. Nice to see ya in some place other than medbay."

"Hi." Wheeljack smiled to himself as Jazz turned back to Prowl. They were gazing at each other, hands clasped, with looks of adoration. Wheeljack knew they'd likely had little private time for the last four orns, and they clearly missed each other. Watching them, Wheeljack knew that's what he wanted, and he wanted it with Bluestreak. And that meant he had to face and overcome his lingering fears.

oOoOo

When Wheeljack returned to the medbay, he found Ratchet adjusting Ironhide's shoulder strut. Most of the other wounded, including Trailbreaker, Inferno, and Powerglide, were recharging.

"Hey, Doc, I'm fine," Ironhide said. "Besides, ya know what happens when I leave Optimus to fret for too long."

"Quiet!" Ratchet tightened a cable. "I'll pounce all over Prime later if I have to. But you're not going back out into battle until I fix this."

Wheeljack shook his head. Everything was under control for the moment, so he made his way to ICU 3. Tracks was in ICU 1 and Blades in ICU 2. Fortunately, they were the only two in serious condition, leaving Wheeljack to use the mirror in ICU 3 to check the outcome of his surgery. He hadn't particularly had the time to check his face for the last four orns, and he figured it was just as well.

"Might as well see the final result all at once," he muttered to himself as he stood before the mirror. Pulling a deep draught of air through his intakes, he steeled himself and triggered the blast mask open. To his surprise, his appearance had changed little since he'd first awakened from stasis lock. Lines covered his cheeks in a web-like design, almost like spider veins under human skin, and tip of his nose still felt like fine sandpaper. A faint dimple marked the hinge of his jaw on each side, but only Ratchet, Hoist, and he would ever know the dimples weren't there by design. His lips were utterly normal. In fact, his entire face was basically normal, and he hardly knew what to think.

"It just looks like minor battle damage," a quiet voice said from behind him.

Wheeljack shifted his gaze and caught Ratchet's reflection in the mirror. "It's incredible. You were right. Using the Earth alloys worked."

Ratchet grinned. "Of course I was right!" He sobered. "Seriously, 'Jack. No one's going to think anything about the lines. You can walk around with your mask open when you're not on duty."

Although he nodded, Wheeljack couldn't shake the sensation that he was somehow still ugly. "Maybe I should sometimes. Might be good for me." The thought still made him nervous.

"Probably." Ratchet walked over and sank onto the berth, obviously exhausted. "So I hear Sunny and Bluestreak have been hanging out."

"Yeah." Wheeljack sighed. The irony was almost too much to bear: his surgery had been successful, but he might still lose his love anyway. Any relief he could feel about his 'normal' face was overshadowed by that thought. "Prowl's ordered me to take the next shift off and claims Blue specifically asked for me."

Ratchet lay on the berth and situated himself. "Huh?"

"Blue's worked six consecutive shifts because there's no one to stay with him while he sleeps." Wheeljack sat on the berth's foot end. "Prowl's forcing him to take tonight off, and so I've been ordered to, also."

"Oh." Ratchet snorted. "Lucky glitch."

Wheeljack felt bad. "Sorry. You need the rest just as much as I do, if not more."

"Then you watch the idiots out there and let me recharge until your shift ends." Ratchet crossed his arms behind his head.

"Sure." Wheeljack moved to stand up.

"Wait."

Wheeljack paused. "Yeah?"

"What're you worried about?" Ratchet watched him closely.

Wheeljack slumped and rested his elbows on his knees. "I think Blue's forgiven me, and Prowl claims Sunny's return means nothing to Blue. In fact, most all my friends seem to be gunning for me. But somehow it's like I'm waiting for reality to crash in. Just like the degradation on my face, the problems in my past relationships didn't show up right away. Prowl told me to quit assuming, but . . ." He trailed off.

"But you don't believe anyone will really love you?"

Sinking his face into his hands, Wheeljack sighed. "On a totally factual level, I know Blue really does love me. But part of me seems to be unable to believe it."

"What do you really want?" Ratchet asked. "Why don't we start there instead of with what you think is possible?"

Wheeljack raised his head and stared at his best friend. He was tired of guessing and worrying, so he decided to be blunt. "I want to bond with Bluestreak."

"Then ask him to." Ratchet sat up and patted him on the shoulder. "That's where you ran into the problem the other two times. Sidewinder just wanted an easy 'face, and Moonwalker wouldn't commit. But I know Bluestreak loves you. When you ask him to bond with you, he's going to look at your face, flaws and all, smile, and say 'yes.'"

Momentarily at a loss for words, Wheeljack gaped. "But isn't that a bit of an extreme way to find out?"

"If it's what you both really want, and I know it is, then no." Ratchet smiled. "You'll know in an instant that your trust is not misplaced this time."

Wheeljack shuddered faintly.

"Isn't it worth the chance?" Ratchet lay back down again. "I know I decided to take the chance and date Sideswipe." He pinned him with a searching gaze. "Have faith in yourself, 'Jack. Have faith in Bluestreak."

_Have faith in myself,_ Wheeljack repeated to himself. He touched his face, remembering how hurt Bluestreak had been when he hadn't had faith in either of them. "You're right," he whispered. "Blue isn't like Sidewinder and Moonwalker. He's really not. I should stop being so uncertain."

"That's the Wheeljack I know." Ratchet grinned. "Now get out and let me recharge."

Wheeljack smiled and stood up. "You got it." He returned to medbay, suddenly looking forward to his upcoming break.

oOoOo

When his shift was finished, Wheeljack left medbay as ordered and returned to his quarters. Trying to keep himself distracted, he sat at his desk and recorded notes in his personal log: half-formed ideas for inventions, observations on Ratchet's latest medical brainstorm, and a few reactions to hearing about Ratchet's upcoming date with Sideswipe. Only two breems passed, and his door comm. buzzed.

"Come in," he murmured, trying to quell his anxiety. Bluestreak would say 'yes,' wouldn't he?

Bluestreak slipped into the cabin, locking the door behind him, and smiled. "Finally! I thought I was never going to get some time with you."

Wheeljack closed his log and turned away from the computer terminal. "Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do." His attempt to sound lighthearted, he realized, failed. His nervousness bled into his tone.

"What's wrong?" Bluestreak frowned and stepped closer. "Are you angry that I've been hanging out with Sunny?" He shook his head. "There's nothing to worry about. He hasn't even tried to make a pass at me, and I told him we were together."

Wheeljack decided he might as well lay the topic to rest. "Why _are_ you spending time with him? Why is he seeking you out, for that matter?"

"He's just trying to ease his own guilt." Bluestreak shrugged. "We were friends first, and we have to work with each other constantly. I hate being at odds with others, and I especially don't want my sparkling to grow up thinking her genitors hate one another. So I'm letting him begin the process of rebuilding our friendship. But to forgive is not to forget. I accepted his apology, but I can never trust him or be with him in _that way_ ever again. He lost that right."

Wheeljack nodded, thinking back to Sidewinder and Moonwalker. He could have never restarted a relationship with them, either. "I understand." He hesitated. "But I hurt you, too, and I'm sorry."

Bluestreak stepped over and wrapped his arms around Wheeljack's shoulders. "We all hurt each other at times. It's unavoidable. But we talked about it, and I already forgave you. All you have to do is promise to communicate with me more openly in the future." Bluestreak triggered Wheeljack's blast mask open and cupped his face in his hands. "Or did you think I was lying when I said I love you?"

Wheeljack wrapped his arms around Bluestreak's waist, realizing that once again, Bluestreak had looked at his facial scars without reacting at all. "No, I know you wouldn't lie about that." He hugged him, reassured. "You've trusted me with your wounds, and I'm trusting you with mine."

"That's right. Because love carries burdens equally, remember? And I love you very much, beautiful." Bluestreak leaned down and kissed him, slipping his warm glossa past his lips and teasing his mouth.

Overwhelmed by the action and the words, Wheeljack moaned and pulled Bluestreak onto his lap so he was straddling him. Bluestreak's assertiveness was almost as arousing as the kissing itself, and Wheeljack followed his lead, rubbing their glossae together. Although Wheeljack knew pretty much all there was to know about interfacing, he had no experience in kissing, and Bluestreak's 'lessons' made every circuit in his body burn.

Then Bluestreak reached around him and stroked his hands up his winglets. Wheeljack cried out, breaking their kiss, and buried his face in Bluestreak's neck, overcome. His entire body trembled from the touch, his systems throbbing from the sudden electrical surge, and he couldn't get any air through his intakes.

"B-blue . . ." he choked out, wanting to warn him not to touch the winglets. When Wheeljack had modified himself to be able to fly, he'd added the winglets to collect the necessary sensory information, but to keep them from getting in the way of his transformation sequence, he'd made them compact and small, leaving them to be the most sensitive area on his entire frame.

"So the winglets do affect you like doorwings," Bluestreak whispered, his tone utterly sultry. "Good." He ran his hands over the edges, fondling them, caressing them, teasing them.

Wheeljack arched into the touch, moaning deeply and clutching Bluestreak, his processor nearly glitching at the wave of pleasure. "Blue! I-I . . ." He found he couldn't even formulate words to tell Bluestreak it was too much. The winglets had been added after his relationship with Moonwalker, and he hadn't realized their potential effect.

"I can hardly wait for us to interface," Bluestreak whispered, his lips brushing against Wheeljack's vocal indicator as he spoke. He ran his hands across the winglets, his fingers catching every sensory node as he went. "I want to tease your winglets until you overload screaming my name."

The words proved Wheeljack's undoing. He overloaded instantly, crying out as he did, pulses of electricity racing through his body.

Bluestreak released his winglets and hugged him, and for long moments, they said nothing. Wheeljack's frame released faint popping sounds as his systems cooled down.

"Wow," Bluestreak finally said, sounding awed. "I didn't actually think you'd overload just from that."

Wheeljack laughed, half at the situation and half at himself. "I didn't either." Feeling undefeatable from the elation of Bluestreak's love confessions and the overload, he decided to push through his remaining fear all at once. He pulled back and gazed at Bluestreak. "So hands off until we're bonded!"

A long pause followed this pronouncement. Bluestreak's optics had widened, and he looked like someone had offered him his greatest dream. "Until we're bonded?"

"Um-hm." Wheeljack relaxed, taking his lover's reaction as a good sign. He reached up and ran his fingertips over Bluestreak's cheek. "Assuming you'll agree, that is." He smiled, feeling safe with Bluestreak's arms wrapped around him and knowing he'd risk anything to be with him forever. "Will you spark bond with me?"

Bluestreak paused, then leaned down and kissed him, hugging Wheeljack tight against his chassis as he did. When he broke away, his smile seemed to make his entire face glow. "Yes! Definitely yes!" He hopped faintly on Wheeljack's lap, as though he'd burst from joy. "Oh 'Jack really do you want to bond because I was beginning to think it was this dream I'd have to hold forever and never actually have it fulfilled and I love you so much and I was hoping we would get to that point and—"

"There's my Bluestreak," Wheeljack murmured, amused by how excited he was. He kissed Bluestreak's cheek. "Your spark will need five orns to recover after the separation, but we could do it any time after that."

"The very next orn!" Bluestreak hugged him again and gave him a quick kiss. "Oh this is so wonderful I'm so happy I can't wait to tell Prowl and Jazz and I think this is the single happiest moment of my life." He stopped only to kiss him once more. "I can't wait to tell everyone so can we send out an announcement or something?"

Wheeljack smiled at his intended bondmate. "We'll announce it at the end of your belated Sparkling Unveiling ceremony."

Bluestreak compulsively hugged him again. "Yes! Let's do that then."

Wheeljack held him tightly, smiling to himself. He couldn't decide which emotion was strongest within him: joy or peace. He believed it had to be the most perfect moment of his life.

Their celebration, however, was rudely interrupted when the red alert alarm blared to life.

Bluestreak jumped, then groaned. "Not again! Can't they just give it a break already?"

Ironhide's voice pierced the base comm. ::Decepticon attack! Everyone report to yer posts!::

Wheeljack grew uneasy again. Either Megatron had gotten tired of the Autobots destroying all his toys, or there was more to the so-called 'reverse EMP' weapon than Perceptor had discovered. "Promise me you won't even think about leaving the base. In fact, why don't you help me in medbay?"

Bluestreak nodded, but Wheeljack cursed their luck. "I finally get up the nerve to propose," he said with a sigh, "but I choose the week we're getting pummeled by the 'Cons. Go me."

Bluestreak laughed.

oOoOo

Holding hands with Wheeljack, Bluestreak let his intended pull him toward medbay, feeling too giddy to be too concerned.

"Megatron must really have his circuits in a wad," Wheeljack muttered as two-thirds of the base raced past them toward the _Ark_'s entrance. "But I'm not sure why. I better take a closer look at that device's design."

Bluestreak smiled, wondering if Wheeljack knew just how good of an engineer he really was. However, the impact of missile barrages cut off his reply as the _Ark_ shook. _They're aiming right at the base proper,_ he thought, suddenly grim.

Upon entering medbay, Bluestreak wondered at the wisdom of his decision. He could handle minor repairs, having earned a rank five field medic's license. Gushing energon and scorched limbs made him jumpy, however, and melted parts and screaming made him glitch. And within a breem, that's exactly what Bluestreak had on his hands. Hound was their only rank one field medic, and he was away, leaving Bluestreak to handle triage entirely by himself as Wheeljack, Ratchet, First Aid, and Sparkplug rushed between a growing number of casualties.

Bluestreak tried to focus on clamping a leaking energon line in Mirage's arm, but shouts and pained moans filled the air.

"I need an energon line here!"

"Put him into stasis lock immediately!"

"Where's that welder? I need that welder!"

"Stay still, slaggit! I can't fix this panel with you squirming around like that."

Bluestreak brutally narrowed his concentration and finally sealed off the line. "There you go," he said, patting Mirage's shoulder. "Just shut down for now."

Mirage's gaze seemed unfocused, but he nodded faintly and went offline.

Turning at the sound of the doors opening again, Bluestreak prepared himself for the next patient. Inferno carried in Prowl, whose right doorwing was sheered in half.

"Hoist ordered me to bring him here ASAP," Inferno said. "He and Grapple are buried in casualties outside."

Bluestreak nearly collapsed at the sight of his adoptive father's prone form. "O-okay. J-j-just put him on the—" He glanced around frantically, seeing no berths open. "'Jack!"

The _Ark_ shook under a new barrage of missile impacts, raining rubble on their helms. Bluestreak cringed, but he managed to calm himself when he saw Wheeljack turn and head their way. Another blast, and the room shook harder. A metallic shrieking sound pierced Bluestreak's audios, then something hit his back.

For a moment, Bluestreak wondered why Wheeljack looked so horrified, why Inferno was yelling and Ratchet suddenly ran in his direction. Then he looked down, saw the piece of metal sticking out of his left shoulder, and became confused as to why he felt no pain when his entire front was covered in spilt lubricants and energon.

"Oh," he muttered as his HUD flashed a series of warnings, and then he felt himself falling into emergency stasis lock.

* * *

_Postscript: Don't shoot me! It's the last cliffhanger of the story, I swear._

_Thank you to the following for their wonderful reviews: WolvesFire77, Dragon260, Kookaburra, Kick-Aft, BiloxiBlueberry, Apocrypha Blessing, pickwickpirate, Shiny Ryuici Sakuma, Sslaxx, Hellen, PrancingTiger86, Zonadow, Misao-CG, Darklight8121, and Shirox._


	9. One Spark, One Mind

_**Chapter 9: One Spark, One Mind**_

Sharp pain. Yells. Bluestreak opened his optics and flinched at the bright light, his sight blurred.

"Blue?" Wheeljack's voice.

"Stay calm, 'Jack." Ratchet's voice. Bluestreak realized he was still in medbay.

As his mind cleared, Bluestreak smelled spilt energon, sour and sulfuric, and the white light burning into his optics made him groan. "'J-j-j-ack?" He paused, distantly noting the glitch in his processor, then gasped as pain sliced through his spark chamber.

Wheeljack leaned into view, blocking the glare and giving Bluestreak something to focus on. "It's okay." His voice was quiet and concerned. "Ratch has the energon leaks clamped down and a pain neutralizer on your shoulder. The ball bearing has to be replaced, but given what happened, the injury isn't as severe as we first thought."

"S-s-severe?" Bluestreak tried to remember what _had_ happened, but all he could recall were energon and lubricants racing down his body, glaring luminescent pink and muddy brown against his grey paint. A second pain ricocheted off every circuit in his chest, making him groan. "W-w-w-hat?" He wanted to ask why he was still in pain if Ratchet had a neutralizer on him, but he couldn't get out the words.

Wheeljack leaned back as Ratchet's face came into view. "Listen carefully," he said, utterly grim. "The injury is making your sparkling separate early. We have to transfer her to her body now."

Terror raced through Bluestreak's CPU, causing his processor to freeze, then loop. _Separate early . . ._ "S-s-silverwind!"

Two warm, strong hands took one of his, clasping it, and Bluestreak turned his gaze to Wheeljack. "She'll be fine. You both will be. I'm right here."

Bluestreak clutched the fingers woven through his and shuddered, but with Ratchet conducting the procedure and Wheeljack at his side, he was able to hold off his panic. "O-o-okay. What do I d-d-do?"

Ratchet extended a tool from his left forefinger and touched Bluestreak's vocal processor. "Not too much. Just tell me if you feel anything other than sharp pains. I need to know immediately if you get a throbbing sensation, a burning sensation, or a cold sensation."

Bluestreak nodded. "S-so far just sharp." He realized Ratchet had tweaked his vocalizer.

"Good." Ratchet worked with a wire in his neck. "One of the wires to your vocalizer was cut. Try to speak again."

Bluestreak found irony in the fact he suddenly didn't know what to say. He asked the first question that came to mind. "How long was I out?"

"About three breems." Ratchet looked to First Aid as he approached, and Bluestreak saw the younger medic hand over Silverwind's protoform. Ratchet laid it on the berth, near Bluestreak's head.

An agonizing pain ripped through Bluestreak's spark, and he gasped so hard the air wheezed through his intakes. He felt like Ratchet had sliced his spark in half with a laser scalpel, and the aftershock raced through his circuits. He had to hold back a whimper, fighting not to curl in on himself.

Wheeljack knelt by the berth, still clinging to his hand. "It's okay, love," he whispered.

"Why the pain?" he croaked, wondering why Ratchet couldn't neutralize it.

Wheeljack glanced at Ratchet, then back at him. "It's normal. The energy tendril that feeds the sparkling is being choked off. It's severing the connection, which is the necessary step for separation."

Although he nodded in understanding, Bluestreak couldn't answer verbally. Another pang hit him, making him clench his jaw and hiss. He would have rather had Megatron tear his spark out of his chest. "_Primus!_" he spat as the pain lapsed. He didn't even realize he'd curled his shoulders off the repair berth until he flopped down again.

Ratchet put a hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Try not to move. I don't want you jarring those cut lines."

"Easier said than done!" he snapped, and Wheeljack laughed. Bluestreak glared at him.

"Sorry." He patted the hand he held. "Carriers always get really slagged off during this stage."

Bluestreak snorted. "I can't imagine — " He clenched his jaw again as another wave of pain wracked his frame, and his vision blurred momentarily. He realized his entire chest and face were growing hot. "Burning up!"

"Your spark?" Ratchet grew tense.

"Frame."

Ratchet nodded and stepped out of his view.

"That's normal," Wheeljack said, keeping his tone soft, calm. "You need to concentrate on drawing as much air through your intakes as possible to keep your systems cool."

Bluestreak inhaled as instructed, only to sputter as another surge hit him. He gripped Wheeljack's hand brutally, hissing in pain, and all he wanted to do was scream at them to _hurry up and get the slaggin' thing out of him._ He fell limp as the pain passed and gazed at Ratchet absently as he fixed a small device to his neck.

"It'll help keep you cool," Ratchet said, patting his arm.

Wheeljack squeezed his hand gently. "Hang in there, sweetspark. It's almost over. The connecting tendril is so faint I almost can't see it."

Ratchet nodded and picked up an odd instrument that looked like pinchers with padded circles at the ends. "He's right. You're doing great."

"What's that?" Bluestreak whispered, disturbed.

"Energy forceps," Ratchet replied with an unusual amount of patience. "They won't hurt you. I'll just be using them to pull out the sparkling once it's separated."

Wheeljack kissed his fingers, drawing his attention back to him. "You're almost through the painful part."

Bluestreak felt it then: a building surge that broke free and ripped through his spark chamber. He cried out instinctively, trying to curl up, but Ratchet pushed down on his uninjured shoulder. He heard a soft sizzling sound, and a weak blue light flashed from his spark chamber, tinting his painting. The pain ceased so suddenly he gasped.

Ratchet lowered the energy forceps into his spark chamber, then snatched them out. Bluestreak stared in awe at the tiny blue ball crackling in the forceps' clutches. Ratchet immediately snapped the sparkling into Silverwind's spark chamber, holding the forceps there. A moment later, a second blue flash lit the chamber and made her chassis glow. "Got it!" Ratchet removed the forceps and triggered Silverwind's chest closed. Her optics onlined, glowing brightly before dimming, and she pulled her hands toward her optics and shrieked.

"What's wrong with her?" Bluestreak asked, panicked. He pulled away from Wheeljack and reached for her instinctively.

"Careful!" Wheeljack helped him to sit up.

Ratchet dimmed the surgical lights. "It's okay. The harshness of the light made her optics hurt." He gently picked her up and transferred her to Bluestreak's arms, where she quieted. "Congratulations."

Bluestreak held her close, sensing her spark, her _life._ He ran his fingertips over her peaceful face with its tiny silver features and chevron. Her royal blue helm, doorwings, and chest stood out in sharp contrast, as did the yellow and red stripes accenting her torso and doorwings. "She's beautiful." He stared at her, awed by the fact _he'd_ nurtured her energy into life, and suddenly coolant welled in his optics. All the death he'd seen, all the death he'd caused, slipped away from his consciousness in that moment, replaced by the sparkling Primus had generated within him. In that instant, he couldn't feel or even imagine anything but joy.

"Yes," Wheeljack said, reaching out to run his fingers across his cheek. "She's beautiful."

Bluestreak leaned into the touch, then smiled at Wheeljack. "This is amazing. Oh, 'Jack tell me that you'll adopt her I want your name listed as her other creator I mean you built her protoform anyway and we're going to be bonded so please say yes."

Wheeljack slipped onto the berth behind him, pulling him close and letting him lean against him. "Of course," he whispered into his audio. "I don't know how Sunny will react, but if it's what you want, I'll pursue it."

Nodding, Bluestreak smiled and relaxed. "I want nothing more." He kissed Silverwind's chevron softly.

Ratchet knelt beside the berth. "I'll give you a few kliks, then we need to transfer her into an external gestation chamber until we make sure she's fully stabilized. She is early, after all. And I need to fix your shoulder."

"Okay." Bluestreak would have rather fallen into recharge in Wheeljack's arms with Silverwind nestled against him, but he understood. Still, the universe seemed at peace, and to Bluestreak, Silverwind was the center of that peace.

oOoOo

Wheeljack paced the empty medbay, overcome with anxiety. In a breem, the ceremony to officially bond Bluestreak and him would begin, but for now, Ratchet and Sideswipe were left watching him pace. Twelve orns had passed since Silverwind had been separated, but the ceremony could not be arranged any sooner. The Autobots had been busy destroying Megatron's toy and its specs, driving off the 'Cons, and repairing the base. Not to mention Bluestreak had needed to heal from his injury.

Now, however, the base hummed with excitement, and Wheeljack could sense it like energy in the air. Even with Ratchet and Sideswipe to help him apply fresh wax and assure him his face looked fine, Wheeljack felt unprepared. Unable to hold back his anxiety any longer, he let himself voice his thoughts. "I can hardly comprehend it! I'm actually going to be spark bonded. To Bluestreak!" Every circuit in his frame tingled with a surge of nervousness. "Oh Primus we really should have opted for a private ceremony with just Prime and Prowl and Jazz and Ironhide and you." He glanced at Ratchet, who gazed at him with some amusement. "Why did I agree to this huge base-wide ceremony so that the entire crew complement would be staring at us plus Sparkplug, Spike, and Carly, and what if my processor just blanks out right in the middle of the vows?"

Ratchet exchanged a grin with Sideswipe. "He sounds just like Bluestreak."

"And they're not even bonded yet!" Sideswipe laughed.

Shaking his head, Wheeljack accepted the teasing with good grace. "I'm just nervous. Happy, but nervous." He smirked at them. "You two will be just as nervous when you officially spark bond."

Ratchet was suddenly staring at the floor with an embarrassed smile, while Sideswipe's grin turned goofy. "Probably," Sideswipe replied, sounding altogether enthusiastic about the idea.

The medbay doors slid open, and Sunstreaker entered. "Oh, come on, Sides! Tell me you couldn't do better than that with his wax." He examined Wheeljack with an appraising look. "You need to shine like you just came off the assembly line."

Sideswipe snorted. "He looks fine."

"Amateurs." Sunstreaker snatched up a buffer. "Here. Let me."

Ratchet and Sideswipe traded looks again, then moved away, whispering and laughing, no doubt over Sunstreaker's ego. Wheeljack turned his attention to Sunstreaker as he meticulously buffed his right arm.

Sunstreaker wouldn't meet his gaze. "Look, 'Jack. You probably hate me and think I'm the biggest glitch to ever live, but I still want to say . . . please take good care of Blue."

"I will." Wheeljack found he wasn't entirely surprised at Sunstreaker's concern. He'd looked after Silverwind several times while Bluestreak recovered from his injury. "I love him, you know."

Sunstreaker finally met his gaze. "I believe you. I was suspicious when you started acting differently around me." He paused, looking conflicted. "So, are you going to sue for guardianship of Silverwind?"

"I want to." Wheeljack hid his surprise. He expected Sunstreaker to be forthright, but he hadn't expected them to be discussing Silverwind, especially so soon. "Why?"

Sunstreaker moved to his left arm, making his paint nearly glow. "You're the one who's going to bond with him, so if you apply for adoption, I won't contest it. I still want access to her, though." He glanced at Ratchet and Sideswipe, who were sneaking a kiss in the corner, and shook his head. "If you tell anyone I said any of this, I'll bash your head in, but the truth is, I don't know what I want. It's why I won't consider bonding. After Sides and I were orphaned, I poured all my energy into learning how to fight, and all I've ever been is Sunstreaker the Warrior. Past that, I'm just not sure. I don't want Silverwind to suffer because of that, but I also don't want to be cut out of her life."

Wheeljack assumed this was as sincere, honest, and humble Sunstreaker would ever be and didn't test his luck. "I understand that. I'll be applying for official guardianship, then, but you can be sure neither Blue nor I want to ban you from spending time with Silverwind."

Glancing back at him, Sunstreaker nodded. "I figured you'd say that." He smirked. "Besides, someone has to teach her how to fight well, and we all know that'd be me."

"You're hopeless." Wheeljack laughed.

oOoOo

Bluestreak stood in the comm. room, gripping Jazz's arm in utter terror. "It's almost time! I was so stupid to insist on a public ceremony but this is the most important moment of my life and I wanted a full celebration." He sucked air through his intakes. "Oh Primus what if I'm making a mistake because we've only been together for roughly 90 orns and this all happened so quick!"

With a small smile, Jazz patted his hand. "It's normal to have second thoughts. But the truth is that, not countin' the time we were in stasis, ya and 'Jack have known each other two vorns. Besides, when ya wake up in the mornin', who do ya want at yer side?"

Stopping to consider that mental picture, Bluestreak couldn't imagine waking up _without_ Wheeljack at his side. "I want it to be 'Jack," he whispered. "Is that how you knew about Prowl?"

"Yeah." Jazz's smile widened. "I admit I was hesitant. Prowler was way more confident and sure than I was, but when it came down to it, I couldn't imagine a life without 'im."

Bluestreak relaxed and nodded. "I understand. It's a totally different feeling than at the beginning. I don't get that strange quivering feeling in my tanks anymore when I think of him or first see him. Instead I feel incomplete without him and want to share my life with him."

"That's the difference between infatuation and love," a smooth, calm voice said from behind them.

Bluestreak jerked around, then relaxed again at seeing Prowl. "Oh you surprised me!"

"My apologies." Prowl clasped his hands behind his back. "Silverwind has been safely delivered to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Jazz and I would like to watch her tonight, though."

"Sure!" Bluestreak smiled at him. "Thank you for doing all this for me."

Jazz patted his back. "No problem, kiddo. Yer family!"

For a moment, Bluestreak was so overwhelmed by all his joy and nervousness he couldn't speak. He simply grabbed Jazz's arm again and squeezed. They traded grins, the soft hum of Teletraan's systems filling the unusual pause.

Prowl broke the silence instead. "Shall we go?"

A new surge of nervousness raced through Bluestreak's circuits. "Y-yes. Let's go."

Prowl smiled and patted his shoulder. "Good. And just so you know, we couldn't be happier for you."

"That's right," Jazz said.

"Thanks!" Bluestreak hugged them both, then headed for the door.

oOoOo

Glancing around the natural amphitheater outside the _Ark_, Optimus Prime smiled to himself. He was pleased to be conducting a spark bonding instead of a trial, and he knew the joyful occasion boosted morale considerably. Various couples, some bonded for vorns and others newly dating, held hands as they awaited Wheeljack and Bluestreak. Everyone else sat in clusters with their friends, cutting up and laughing. Bumblebee was explaining to Sparkplug, Spike, and Carly yet again the difference between their species, trying his hardest to help them comprehend something so different from their own schema of marriage and reproduction.

Optimus Prime touched his chest briefly, a warm rush passing through his frame. His recent trip to Cybertron and giving of his lifeforce to Elita One had caused an accidental bond, but they were both happy with the results. He looked forward to the orn when they could live together with Cybertron as their home, and he hoped that the arrangement humans called 'marriage' could be even a tenth as deep and powerful as a bond. He glanced toward the sides of the amphitheater and saw that the couple in question had moved into position, along with their seconds. "A-tten-_tion_!" he ordered, and the assembly stood. Blaster immediately began playing the traditional Cybertronian fanfare, its graceful, electronic notes crescendoing over the crowd.

Entering the assembly from the left, Bluestreak made his way down the pathway, Jazz and Prowl following him at an arm's length. Simultaneously, Wheeljack entered from the right, Ratchet and Ironhide escorting him. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, who was carrying Silverwind, slipped into the crowd, and to Optimus Prime's relief, they were both smiling. Apparently Sunstreaker was adjusting well.

Bluestreak and Wheeljack met before Optimus and turned to face him, with Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, and Ironhide lined up behind them. Blaster faded out the music, and the assembly sat, making themselves comfortable along the hillsides.

"We have convened today for the official spark bonding of Wheeljack and Bluestreak," Optimus Prime began, falling back on the ancient wording of the Rite of Ages. "If those who have committed themselves as seconds find any reason to halt this process, speak now."

Prowl and Ratchet gazed at him with their Official Capacity faces, while Jazz and Ironhide grinned. Knowing no objections would be forthcoming, Optimus continued. "Seeing none, we will proceed.

"At the beginning, there was Primus. Infused in the Creation Matrix, he chose to give Cybertron life, and by extension, us. Sending sparks of himself into our laser cores, he gave us our individuality. When we die, we return to him, till all are one. Spark-bonding is a middle step in the cycle of life: the uniting of two sparks to forge a bond, making two one, and in doing so, enriching lives. Today Wheeljack and Bluestreak are making that significant step, bonding themselves together, sealing their fates together, uniting themselves in life as well as death. Together they will remain, till _all_ are one."

"Till all are one," the crowd repeated.

Optimus turned his gaze upon the smiling couple, who were holding hands. "Turn to face each other, please."

Bluestreak and Wheeljack turned and grasped both hands together, their gazes pinned on one another.

"Repeat after me," Optimus said. "We pledge ourselves to each other, accepting no other."

"We pledge ourselves to each other, accepting no other," Wheeljack and Bluestreak repeated in tandem.

"Fusing our sparks into an unbreakable bond," Optimus continued.

The couple traded dazzling smiles. "Fusing our sparks into an unbreakable bond."

"Committing our lives and love, no matter what hardships come."

"Committing our lives and love, no matter what hardships come."

"Until our sparks are reunited with the Matrix and all are one," Optimus finished with great pride.

"Until our sparks are reunited with the Matrix and all are one." The two mechs seemed to positively glow.

"Till all are one!" the assembly echoed.

"Seconds," Optimus said, stepping back.

Prowl took Bluestreak's arm, opening an access panel and snapping an energy regulator in place while Ironhide did the same for Wheeljack. Then Ratchet and Jazz connected data cables between ports in their necks. Since this procedure saved the couple the embarrassment of overloading in public, Optimus had followed the example of previous Primes in this part of the ceremony. In fact, the energy regulation removed the sensual nature of the act altogether, leaving only the beauty.

Once the seconds had returned to their positions, Optimus stepped forward again. "The Rite of Ages has been completed. You may now bond your sparks."

With shy but loving smiles, Wheeljack and Bluestreak transformed their chests, folding back the layers of metal. The soft blue glow of their sparks bathed their faces as they paused, then they embraced each other, pressing their chests together. A hushed klik passed as their sparks built in strength, then a spherical pulse of blue energy bloomed outward where they connected, like a miniature nova, signaling the deep fusion of their sparks. When they parted, their bodies seemed to shine almost as though they glittered with stardust. They entwined their fingers together again as they closed their spark chambers, and Optimus stepped forward, carefully detaching the data cables. "I now present to this assembly a united spark: Wheeljack and Bluestreak."

The couple turned to face the crowd as their seconds stepped to the sides, and thunderous applause filled the air. Optimus felt his own spark expand in his chest as the Matrix whispered within him a song of joy. To him, nothing could be more beautiful.

oOoOo

Standing in the front corner of the rec room, Bluestreak leaned into Wheeljack's chassis and relaxed as he slid his arm around his waist. Since red was the color for luck on Cybertron, Carly and Spike had glued red ribbons to magnets and given them to everyone. Carly herself was wearing a crimson sundress and Spike and Sparkplug red dress shirts. Bluestreak smiled at everyone who congratulated them and didn't mind in the slightest when his fellow Autobots used the occasion to release all their stress. The minibots had gotten into the high-grade, and Sideswipe and Jazz were engaged in some odd stalking game in which they apparently were trying to pull pranks on each other. In short, everyone was being obnoxious and loud, and Bluestreak was happy just to listen to them laugh.

"I wish your Sparkling Unveiling Ceremony could have been separate from our bonding celebration," Wheeljack whispered.

Bluestreak smiled at him. "It's okay. We don't have enough high-grade right now to throw two parties."

Wheeljack chuckled, and the revving of a motor caught their attention. Silverwind had transformed and escaped Sunstreaker, whizzing between mechs and causing Optimus and Ironhide to laugh at Sunstreaker's chagrin. The miniature 300ZX Z32 circled Smokescreen and Prowl, as though drawn to her fellow Fairlady Zs, and her yellow and red racing stripes seemed to glint in the light. Prowl grabbed her, scooping her up, and she transformed and giggled as he hugged her.

"Your sparkling is outwitting you," Prowl said to Sunstreaker as he rushed over. Bluestreak chuckled. His father seemed to be serious, but he'd learned to detect his deadpan humor.

"Very funny," Sunstreaker replied.

Wheeljack shook his head. "Well, despite appearances, I think Silverwind is in good hands. You ready to slip away?"

Bluestreak grinned, excited at the prospect of finally being alone with his bondmate. "Sure!"

Taking his hand, Wheeljack led him away, and Bluestreak remembered the first time Wheeljack had pulled him away from the rec room. He'd first made his feelings known that night, but Bluestreak would have never imagined they'd end up bonded. He felt as though he'd ended a painful odyssey during which he'd been mostly lost, only to begin a new and more pleasant journey.

When they reached Wheeljack's cabin, which they would share until larger quarters could be arranged, they entered wordlessly, as though sharing a moment of awe. Wheeljack locked the door behind them, and Bluestreak felt a touch nervous. However, Wheeljack smiled at him, leaving him mesmerized by the curve his beautiful lips. Bluestreak drifted over, reaching up to trace his fingertips over his bondmate's cheeks. Wheeljack wrapped both arms around his waist as Bluestreak cupped his face and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss.

"You're gorgeous," Bluestreak whispered, conveying the feeling through their bond. "Now that we're bonded, I hope you can feel just how much." He gazed at the glow lighting Wheeljack's optics, intense blue in the cabin's soft illumination, and lost himself in the life humming between them. Wheeljack was confident, certain, optimistic. Happy. The calmness infused Bluestreak, extinguishing his fear and pain. Words still rose to the surface of his mind, struggling to break free, but they were no longer panicked.

Wheeljack caressed his chevron, drawing a shiver from him. "And you're no longer alone. We can never be torn apart now."

Offlining his optics, Bluestreak nodded, and when Wheeljack's hand cupped his cheek in return, he leaned into the touch. "I can't tell you how much that means." _::To be one with you forever, to know no one and nothing can take you from me. To know I can never again be the lone, last youngling standing in the ruins of a lost city.::_

Bluestreak wasn't sure if he did or didn't want Wheeljack to hear the words, but an answer came through their bond anyway. _::Two but one. Different but united. In life and death. It's the gift our species has. Our human friends can never understand the pain inherent in living for eons, but they also can never share the infusion we have._

Smiling, Bluestreak onlined his optics again. _::Then let's unite again, this time without the energy regulation.::_ He lowered silver fingers to dance across Wheeljack's chassis, gliding over smooth glass and slipping into transformation seams, strumming wires.

With a gasp, Wheeljack tightened one arm around his waist and used the other to caress a lightly twitching doorwing, leaving sensory panels tingling in his wake. As their lips met again, warm glossae sliding into each other's mouths, Wheeljack dipped his fingers into the door hinges, setting the circuits ablaze from the gentle penetration. Bluestreak moaned into their kiss, clasping his arms around Wheeljack's neck and pressing their bodies closer.

Wheeljack pulled back and smiled, running one fingertip down Bluestreak's cheek seam. "I'd very much like to get at your doorwings." With a gentle push, he began backing Bluestreak toward the desk.

"My doorwings?" Bluestreak felt heat zing through all his circuits, and he couldn't look away from that beautiful smile, which had turned mischievous. He felt the edge of the desk against his hips.

"Um-hm." Wheeljack turned him around and whispered into his audio. "Would you let me lavish some attention on them?" His lips brushed his helm as he spoke.

Bluestreak shivered and nodded, and Wheeljack pressed a kiss against his audio, then guided him to bend over the desk. "'Jack?" He felt his doorwings arch upward.

Hands caressed the length of Bluestreak's back, and he pressed into the touch. Wheeljack leaned over him, a warm presence against his chassis, stroking the doors and tracing leather contours and door handles. Bluestreak grabbed the desk's edges and squeezed, his internal fans kicking on as his body heated. Wheeljack slipped one leg, then the other between his knees, trapping him against the desk, and reached around his body to trace the rim of Bluestreak's headlights with his fingers. A long, low moan escaped Bluestreak's vocalizer.

"Didn't I say I'd get you back for all those sexy things you kept saying?" Wheeljack nibbled the one doorwing's edge, kissing and nipping his way across the metal.

Bluestreak trembled from the touches. "Y-yes." Wheeljack dipped down, licking at the door joint and slipping his glossa in to penetrate the seam. Bluestreak gasped, his engine purring and doorwings quivering. "'Jack! Please . . ."

A chuckle met the mostly unspoken request, and Wheeljack slid his fingers into the opposite seam, stimulating one bundle of sensory wires with his fingertips and the other with his glossa. Energy sparks zipped through Bluestreak's body, making him collapse on the desk, moaning. His grip on the desk tightened until the metal squealed from the pressure. "Please, I need to touch you back!"

"Oh?" Such teasing and amusement in the voice. "Maybe I'd like to overload you several times tonight, starting with your doorwings." Wheeljack traced both hands over the underside of his doors, setting off sensor nodes, and leaned up to nip the back of his neck.

Bluestreak squirmed, caught between different shades of desire. He could feel the rumble of Wheeljack's engine against his back, though, and it drove him to return the touches. "Later! Later. I want to overload with our sparks merged."

A quiet intake of air, nearly but not quite a gasp, was Wheeljack's only response, then the weight on his back receded. Gentle hands pulled Bluestreak up and turned him around, and once more he found himself gazing at Wheeljack's stunning smile. "I can hardly say no to that," he replied.

Bluestreak grinned, then sprang forward, toppling them both to the floor. He sat up, straddling Wheeljack's hips. "Payback," he whispered, caressing Wheeljack's hood, gliding his palms over the smooth windshield, and dipping his fingers into the transformation seams on his sides. Wheeljack moaned and arched his back off the floor as Bluestreak found and strummed bundles of sensory wires.

Encouraged, Bluestreak lowered himself onto Wheeljack, trailing his lips up the slope of his neck and nipping the cables there. Aware that Wheeljack's back was now trapped against the floor, Bluestreak smiled to himself and reached out to run his fingers the length of one winglet.

Wheeljack gasped, bucking faintly under him. "Blue . . ."

Bluestreak wanted to tease him senseless, but he didn't want him to accidentally overload, either. He sat up again, sliding down to sit on Wheeljack's upper thighs. Bluestreak trailed his fingers over his chassis and ghosted his fingertips in light circles over Wheeljack's interface panel, jerking a deep moan from him.

Wheeljack drew air through his intakes, then grinned. "Tease." He ran his palms up Bluestreak's inner thighs, eliciting a shudder from him, and traced the seam of his interface panel as well.

Giving himself to the sensation, Bluestreak moaned, his doorwings arching upward as he let his head fall back. Wheeljack used his other hand to caress his cheek and stroke down his neck. Bluestreak felt Wheeljack's panel trigger open under his touches, felt the cool air rush into his own panel as it opened as well. Wheeljack pressed one finger into Bluestreak's port, setting off a surge of energy as the port reacted to the false connection. Bluestreak cried out and rushed to return the favor, dipping his finger into Wheeljack's exposed port and stroking the wires inside. Wheeljack choked back a moan, and then they arched into each other's touches, pushing their fingers deeper. Wheeljack shifted first, moving his fingers to Bluestreak's interfacing cable instead, running his thumb over the bare metal tip.

"'Jack!" Bluestreak bit his own lip, fighting the urge to overload. He gently pulled out Wheeljack's cable, stroking its length and rubbing the tip between his thumb and forefinger.

Wheeljack gasped sharply and completed the connection, plugging Bluestreak's cable into his own port. Bluestreak moaned as data surged between them and plugged Wheeljack into himself, initiating a feedback loop. He collapsed atop Wheeljack, and their hands immediately sought out doorwings and winglets, sensations and data bursting between them and leaving their systems burning from the touches. Then soft clicks and whirls announced the parting of their chest plates, and the blue glow lit their faces as their sparks were laid bare.

Wordless and not needing speech, they met each other's gazes, their love racing with the data through their connection, and their sparks reached to one another, surges of energy like lightning strikes passing between them. Overcome with the need to fuse themselves, they clutched each other tightly, pressing their sparks together. A pleasant burn erupted between them, a wave of love and passion, heat and energy, that ripped cries from their throats as their systems peaked and overloaded.

Afterward, they lay panting, pulling air through their intakes to aid in cooling their systems. Their chassis emitting soft pops as the heat dispelled, and they traced lazy circles on each other's armor with their fingertips.

"Love you," Bluestreak whispered.

Wheeljack kissed his chevron and sat them up slowly, tucking away their hardware. "Love you, too," he whispered, standing and pulling Bluestreak to his feet. They stumbled over to the berth and collapsed in a tangled heap, curling into one another and smiling as their bond hummed.

Bluestreak slipped into recharge, his mind for once completely calm and still.

* * *

_Postscript: An epilogue is forthcoming! I'll post it in a few days._

_Thank you so much to Lady Prime for beta reading the entire story, SilverPhantom for beta reading chapter 4, and pl2363 for beta reading chapter 9._

_Also, thank you to the following for their reviews: SithMistress, Independent C., Dragon260, Crossfire1205, WolvesFire77, Misao-CG, Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma, freelingbrave, Apocrypha Blessing, Hellen, Carmilla DeWinter, PrancingTiger86, BiloxiBlueberry, Nightwind, Shirox, Darklight8121, and misswildfire. Love you all!_


	10. Epilogue

_This story is in the same continuity as "Sound and Fury," so by default the events of TFTM 1986 didn't occur the same way. As of now, this story is AU._

_This chapter is set after "The Rebirth." Also, I'm going by the episodes that portray Cybertron as smaller than Earth._

_

* * *

_

_**Epilogue**_

Triggering the glass doors open, Wheeljack smiled and stepped out onto the balcony, where Bluestreak rested on a settee. Cybertron's golden-hued metal stretched for megamiles around him, shining in Earth's sunlight. After much discussion with both Cybertronian and Earth physicists and astronomers, they had used the space bridge to maneuver the small, revitalized planet into orbit around Jupiter as a moon. The ancient weather control and atmospheric devices had been fixed, giving the planet's citizens an azure sky broken only by a spattering of thin, white clouds. Jetformers arced in lazy circles, chasing each other through the clouds, and beyond them Jupiter eclipsed half the sky with its bold glow.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Bluestreak asked.

Wheeljack released his blast mask to show his bondmate his smile. "Totally." He settled beside him and relaxed, glad to be off shift. "I never imagined I'd see Cybertron enter a second golden age."

Leaning against him, Bluestreak rested his head on his shoulder. "Me, neither. I thought all I'd ever see would be the blackened ruins of cities like Praxus."

"I'm glad it didn't turn out that way." Wheeljack wrapped one arm around Bluestreak, pulling him closer. Before he could say more, however, their attention was drawn to the yelling, giggling sparklings playing in the courtyard below. Their apartment was on the third floor, so they had an excellent view of the crystal fountain and its pool, where the sparklings splashed water on each other.

"Who has sparkling-sitting duty today?" Wheeljack asked.

"Mirage and Hound." Bluestreak laughed. "They're keeping the sparklings well entertained with holograms and some game Daniel taught them called Hide and Seek. Except Mirage keeps cheating."

"I bet." Wheeljack had spotted Hound, but Mirage was apparently invisible. "I'm just glad Mirage finally agreed to have a sparkling."

The spy in question suddenly appeared, grabbing up Silverwind and making her shriek with laughter. The whole mass of sparklings dashed away, trying to escape being caught. Wheeljack could pick out Jazz and Prowl's sparkling, as well as Ironhide and Chromia's and very conspicuous set of red and white twins. What really captured his attention, however, was the sight of a small, winged sparkling.

"Moonglide?" Wheeljack glanced at Bluestreak in surprise.

"Yep. Powerglide got called in this morning." Bluestreak snorted. "I'll never get over that, by the way. Leave it to Powerglide to pick a vanity designation for his sparkling."

Wheeljack chuckled. "My daughter has questionable taste in mates."

Bluestreak rested one land on his chest and smiled up at him. "And when you tease her about it, you enjoy every klik of it."

"True." Wheeljack captured his hand, kissed his fingers, and then held it in his lap. When they'd been transferred to Cybertron, Bluestreak had nagged him until he'd asked Optimus Prime to repeal the ruling against him. Optimus had seen no problem with doing so, especially since Moonwalker had been killed in the attack by Unicron. As a result, he'd been able to approach Moonracer and reveal his identity, and now he was working on the first set of upgrades for Moonglide.

As though answering a silent summons, Moonracer rounded the apartment's corner and waved to Mirage and Hound. Moonglide ran to her and hopped up and down, holding out his arms in a request to be picked up. She hoisted him onto her hip, holding him there with one arm, and looked up at the balcony. Wheeljack and Bluestreak waved, and she grinned at them and waved back before heading away.

"Thank you," Wheeljack whispered, knowing Bluestreak would understand the reference.

"It was only fair." Bluestreak leaned up and gave him a quick kiss.

Wheeljack hugged him and then settled in to watch the sun set. He knew the Decepticons would return to hassle them, and likely the Quintessons as well. But Cybertron was whole again, home again, and Earth was just a shuttle ride away. What was more, he had his bondmate, his children, and his friends surrounding him. In his mind, it was magical.

* * *

_Postscript: So, this has to be the most melodramatic piece of writing I've ever done (or at least since I was 17). I enjoyed like crazy writing it, though, and so it was with great joy I watched the reviews, faves, and alerts come in. Thank you all so much for all your comments and support! And now to specifically note last chapter's reviewers, thank you to the following: Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma, BiloxiBlueberry, Independent C., Misao-CG, Crossfire1205, Sslaxx, PrancingTiger86, Apocrypha Blessing, Hellen, Shirox, and Darklight8121. You all have been absolutely wonderful!_


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